


Fixing Destinies

by SamaraKurtofsky



Category: Glee
Genre: Cats, Drama, F/F, F/M, Father-Daughter Relationship, Future Fic, Infidelity, M/M, Mystery, Post S6, Romance, Slow Burn, intense feelings of loss due to partner infidelity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:01:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 54,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22620688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SamaraKurtofsky/pseuds/SamaraKurtofsky
Summary: 2025. Kurt and Dave meet again in New York after 10 years of going separate ways. Will destiny bring them back to each other? Undoubtedly! But with a little unexpected help. Slight AU because Finn is alive.
Relationships: Kurt Hummel/David Karofsky, Past Dave Karofsky/OC, Past David Karofsky/Blaine Anderson, Rachel Berry/Jesse St. James, Santana Lopez/Brittany S. Pierce, past Kurt Hummel/Blaine Anderson
Comments: 42
Kudos: 41





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is dedicated to my lovely wife. She helped a lot with the story, and without her, this wouldn't be possible <3

Kurt took off his sunglasses and took a quick look at his wristwatch, a Gucci G-Timeless given to him by Blaine for their third anniversary. He realized he was fifteen minutes early for his appointment with Madeleine Moreau, _Vogue_ NY's latest asset for fashion editing. He had last seen her two months before, at the end of August, excited and a little scared for her first time at Paris Fashion Week, where she would interview Anok Yai, named Model of the Year and Prada's muse.

  
Kurt and Madeleine became friends thanks to their passion for fashion, and Kurt had been her admirer before he was a colleague when he happened to come across _Drops of Fashion,_ an independent blog run by Madeleine. It was Kurt who had advised Isabelle to offer her a job.

  
After Maddie's departure for Paris, Kurt had received several photos of the various runways and video calls where she showed him every angle of the Eiffel Tower.

  
He crossed the threshold of the _Sea Pearl_ , checking the half-empty tables with a half-smile. In his haste, he had forgotten to reserve a table.

  
Although he'd only been there two or three times, it wasn’t because he minded the atmosphere of the place. The pastel shades of the tablecloths and the bar counter were finely balanced with those of the dark gray walls, creating a unique and subtle play of light and shadow. It had the look of a luxury ship's interior but with a rustic touch, given the decorations - a rudder, a model of a pirate ship, and a fishing net embellished with silhouettes of fish and starfish. Kurt had always loved beauty – the fusion of colors working together. His work at _Vogue_ had only increased this predisposition.

  
He was greeted by a waiter in his twenties, or younger, with a dazzling smile. He had green eyes and rather long, ash-blond hair that brushed his shoulders. "May I help you?" He asked with a slightly southern accent.

  
Kurt nodded, squinting to read the name of the label printed on the boy's uniform. "Yes, thank you ... James. I'm waiting for a friend."

  
With a nod, James invited Kurt to follow him. "No problem. I can accommodate you. Can I bring something to drink while waiting?"

  
"A Diet Coke. Thank you very much," Kurt replied, using a friendly tone.

  
The young man reminded him of the brief period in which he had worked at the _Lima Bean_ after finishing high school. He still seemed awkward, inexperienced, and perhaps shy.

  
Kurt chose the table by the window with a view of the main road, rather than the one suggested by James, next to the large aquarium where he caught a glimpse of two tropical fish with red and blue fins playing, or fighting, surrounded by many smaller, less flashy fish.

  
Kurt preferred to get lost in the images of traffic and the sound of the car horns, muffled by being indoors, made even more enjoyable by the notes of a classical low-volume symphony played in the restaurant. He sipped his Diet Coke, admiring the multitude of people and lives that intertwined among the skyscrapers and the cars moving at snail’s pace. He saw an elderly woman with a Chihuahua in her arms get out of a taxi, who was bumped into and apologized to by a tattooed teenager with a thick mass of green hair. A homeless man, wearing a coat too lightweight for the cold of the late fall, was sitting on the side of the road and asking for handout, when a woman with a stroller stopped beside him, offering him a donut.

  
If he concentrated enough, Kurt could hear their thoughts, a whirl of voices, worries and excitement that were lost in the air.

  
Lima, where he was born and raised, was an unremarkable town of identical houses and large lawns, with freshly-painted fences, and homemade blueberry pies. Although he had to fight to maintain uniqueness and individuality there, over the years Kurt had learned to respect Lima, and sometimes nestled between the sheets in his Manhattan apartment, he felt slightly nostalgic for the place where he had cherished his father’s nods of approval as they worked on a difficult repair together amidst the smell of gasoline and engines that permeated his father's shop, found comfort in Carole's warm smiles while they cooked meals together for their family dinners, and enjoyed his skirmishes with Finn, who always forgot to make his bed. Although Kurt had learned to love the simplicity of Lima, he also knew that New York was part of him, as if the very essence of the city ran through his veins. He loved the smells, the deafening noises, the faces that displayed a thousand colors and cultures, the walks through Central Park, Broadway and that world of bright lights and dreams. An unattainable destination for young boys who, like him, knew they were more than their already-written existences.

  
"Kurt?" A female voice, warm and harmonious, interrupted that vortex of thoughts, that nostalgia of past reminiscences.

  
Kurt smiled back at a beautiful girl with a face covered in freckles, long red hair, with a blue Parisian-styled beret. He stood up quickly, giving Madeleine a brief hug.

  
She dropped three massive folders on the table and a few stacks of notes. "I have so much to tell you, Kurt. It was incredible," She exclaimed, with that blazing light in her eyes that Kurt loved so much. She sat across from him, looking around for the waiter. "But first I want to eat something. I heard that in this place they make a fantastic crème brûlée."

  
Kurt couldn't hold back a laugh. "It's like you never left Paris, right?"

  
Madeleine winked at him. "Once you've been to Paris, you never leave it. One day you'll understand."

  
James approached their table, his forehead slightly sweaty. "May I help you?"

  
Madeleine swirled a lock of hair between her fingers and used a persuasive tone. "Two menus and a Coke, please. Thanks."

  
When James left, Maddie barely laughed. "Cute," she said in a low voice. Kurt rolled his eyes. He had missed her innocent way of flirting.

  
**

  
When Dave stepped into the kitchen, he found himself with the arms of a short, olive-skinned man wrapped around his neck before he could even begin the speech he had prepared, apologizing for his long absence.

  
"It's s good to see you, Diego!" Dave returned the hug, heartened by his friend's spontaneous reaction. He was the head chef of the restaurant, and Dave had left much of the work to him when he had moved back to Lima.

He knew they were all happy to see him, but he couldn't shake off that annoying sense of guilt due to his long absence.

  
"I missed you, Karofsky," said cheerfully Robert McHale, the sous chef, who was standing behind them with his apron stained by rocket salad sauce, which was used to prepare the most famous salmon dish in the restaurant. Rob gave Dave a thumb’s up, laughing at the emotional reaction of Diego and at Dave, who had watery eyes, although he tried to hide it by covering his face with the other man's shoulder.

  
Robert hit Diego's shoulder. "A little dignity, Fernandez, or I'll begin to think you have a crush on Dave." The three men laughed.

  
Diego shook his head. "You are as insensitive as usual. It seems like a lifetime has passed since I last saw David."

  
There was a few seconds of awkward silence, and Dave, assailed again by guilt and memories that he wanted to bury forever, bit his lip, and looked down at the floor.

  
Back several years, Dave and Diego had met in a bar in Brooklyn one evening when Dave was waiting for his then-boyfriend, who was one of the bartenders, to finish his shift. A spontaneous friendship was born, one destined to last. Dave started visiting the Italian restaurant where Diego worked at the time, and the two often spent their evenings in each other's company. Diego had perfectionist tendencies, but that was what made his dishes of works of art.

  
Dave liked the part of him that loved to take care of people, the sense of positivity that emanated his being and the almost fraternal affection that sprang from every gesture and word. Diego never forgot a birthday, he always looked for the good side of situations, and he loved children and bird watching. After the birth of his daughter, Lucía, of whom Dave had become godfather, Diego had given into to the boy still within him and enjoyed entertaining Lucía's little friends frequently by creating dishes in the shapes of animals, hearts, and cars.

  
During his free time, he distributed meals to the homeless, and several years back, he had sponsored three siblings who lived in Congo, whose photos he proudly exhibited. Dave was sure that, in his life, Diego had never hated anyone, and he had an innate desire to please anyone he met.

  
During the past nine months that Dave had spent in Lima, Diego and Rob had maintained contact with him and called him regularly. Thanks to their stubbornness, Dave had never forgotten he had friends, people who cared enough for him to contact him just to know if he had eaten, or if he had left home. Those nine months had been too much like a prison, which he was escaping through his own willpower and with the knowledge of having a place to return to and a family, albeit without blood ties, who would was waiting for him with open arms.

  
Diego caught his eye, and Dave returned the look. He had thick black hair, from which sprouted the first gray strands, and the hopeful look of someone who was still a boy in the heart. His face was round, with a slight hint of beard. Diego's wife had confided to him that she had fallen in love with the dimples that appeared on his cheeks with every smile and with his long eyelashes and full lips. He was shorter than Dave and seemed much younger than his forty-two years.

  
"It's over, Dave. Now you're back," he told him with an affectionate expression. Rob nodded, "And you won't leave any time soon," he stated. "Yes, that's a threat.

"  
Both of them laughed, as if nothing had ever happened, and Dave's guilt dissipated like mist in the sun.

  
"Yes, I'm back," he proclaimed proudly, pushing away the doubts that had been nagging him in the days before he returned.

  
Unlike Diego, Rob was very tall and slender, almost Nordic with his blond hair and gray eyes. Dave had met him during their university years, when they both played football. Robert had been the typical, somewhat immature boy who loved to surround himself with girls, but who had never fallen in love with any of them. He preferred to share a few laughs with a friend, rather than behaving like a knight, and really courting a woman. Rob reminded Dave of his old teammates in high school, Azimio or Puck, but Rob had grown up in a family of two mothers, so coming out to him turned out to be simple, and it ended with celebrating together over drinks.

  
Rob instructed one of the new guys to cut tomatoes for mussel soup, while Diego accompanied Dave through the kitchen, where he briefly greeted two co-workers, one intent on filleting salmon and the other on stirring a mixture of vegetables.

  
"I can't wait to tell my wife about your return. She was very worried," said Diego.

  
Dave blushed, remembering the pink get-well and encouragement cards sprinkled with perfume sent weekly by Gloria to his house in Lima "Thank her for the support, and tell her I can't wait to see her."

  
Diego nodded, as a tall black woman who was clearly pregnant approached them.

  
"Suzanne," Dave exclaimed, embracing the woman with apprehension, given the considerable size of her stomach. "I'm so happy to see you. I heard it's a girl. "

  
Suzanne giggled, touching her belly with a hand. "Her name is Naja. Her due date is in January. "

  
Dave had never seen her more beautiful and radiant, and this warmed his heart knowing that happiness was possible, despite the world was filled with hatred, violence, and chaos.

  
He hoped one day to find the same serenity as Suzanne, and this thought made him smile to himself, with slight melancholy. For the past few months, it had been too difficult for him to think of the future.

  
Diego moved away from them to check on the fish, leaving him alone with Suzanne.

  
She grabbed him by the arm. She had been a head manager for two years. She was trustworthy and incredibly self-confident. "I'm really happy to see you, Dave. I have so many things to tell you.”

  
They stepped outside the kitchen, where Dave stared for a moment at the wooden rudder that adorned the room, just above the aquarium.

  
He admired the white contours and the old furrows of the wood, which he had once traced with his fingers and the old smell of a little-frequented store on a small street in Stockholm. Dave stopped those thoughts, knowing that they would lead him into a dark tunnel of regrets and nostalgia.

  
"I heard the new waiter, James, started working last month? What do you think of him?” he asked, trying to redirect the flow of his thoughts. James was only nineteen, and Dave had only seen him through his CV photo. He had worked as a waiter in a pizzeria, but had no experience in upscale restaurants.

  
"He's still shy, but I think he's learning fast. He strives to do well and is good with customers."

  
Dave nodded. "I'm happy to hear you say that." He trusted Suzanne's judgment. She was the kind of person who didn't like to embellish the truth, or please others.

  
As they approached the counter, the chatter of customers rang in Dave's ears like a melody he hadn't heard in a long time. Suzanne opened a drawer and grabbed a black notebook. She opened one of the last pages, drawing asterisks with a pencil next to the most important events. Dave focused his attention on Suzanne's orderly writing.

  
"Marco will join us tonight and will remain until I return. I left a list for him. On Sunday at 9pm, the upstairs room is booked for that company dinner I told you on the phone. On Saturday, Mr. Huang booked the room for his daughter's eighteenth birthday, and the guest list should come soon. Check the emails. Also Mrs. Pierce-Lopez wants to know if we agree to the catering service she requested."

  
Dave felt a surge of pride, thinking of Brittany's path, and where it had taken her. "Of course, we’ll agree. I'll call her as soon as I can."

  
They were interrupted by a breathless James, who was heading towards the kitchen. Dave stopped him with a hand. "Is everything all right?" he asked, and then introduced himself, "Dave Karofsky," He held out his hand to the young man. "I’m the owner of _Sea Pearl_."

  
The boy stood up straighter, trying to look professional. He squeezed Dave's extended hand. "James Callaghan. Thank you for the opportunity, Mr. Karofsky. I need five menus. Two for table twelve and three for table seventeen.”

  
Dave smiled reassuringly. Instantly, he liked the guy.

"Call me Dave," he asserted. "Why don't you take a ten minute break? I'll take care of the menus."

  
Dave cuffed the sleeves of the shirt he was wearing, just above the elbows, and put on an apron. For the first time in nine months, he felt full of life and ready to start again.

  
**

  
Kurt marked part of Maddie's material with a red pen. She had rather messy handwriting, the words too close to each other, but to which Kurt had become accustomed. "This part has to be reviewed, but I prefer to show it to Isabelle for confirmation."

  
Madeleine sipped some of her soda. "I still need to get Anok's final approval for the interview. It should only take a few days.” She opened her handbag and took the latest model iPhone from its back pocket. It had the same Dolce & Gabbana cover that they had reviewed in the latest issue of _Vogue_.

  
She showed Kurt a photo of herself, with her arms around the waist of Anok Yai, who wore a tight black leather bodice. Maddie, more pale with her light skin and her pastel makeup, wore a long blue dress, her hair tied in a chignon. She smiled at the camera like a groupie at the concert of her favorite band.

  
"Anok is fantastic, Kurt," she said enthusiastically, punctuating the words. "Not only is she extremely intelligent, but I love her sense of humor. In the end we talked about basketball. Did you know she was part of a team before she became a model?"

Kurt looked at her with the air of someone who knew very well what was going on. "Another crush, Maddie?"

  
She rolled her eyes and drew a long dreamy sigh. "You, too, would have a crush on her."

  
"In middle school I had a crush on Kristin Chenoweth, so anything is possible."

  
The atmosphere was friendly, more like a meeting of two old friends, rather than a business lunch. Madeleine radiated joy and happiness, with a tinge of self-centeredness that reminded him of Rachel Berry, his best friend since his high school days, from which, however, he had drifted apart in recent years.

  
Kurt felt comfortable with Maddie, as if they had known each other forever.

  
"Hello," a male voice interrupted. "I brought two menus." Kurt turned, and at a second glance he recognized David Karofsky – the guy who had made life in high school impossible for him, but with whom he had established a relationship that had come close to reaching friendship, just before graduation. He hadn't seen him in ten years, more precisely since after his marriage to Blaine.

  
He gasped in shock, unable to find the words. "David?" He asked, his tone louder than normal. He had to remind himself that he was no longer in Lima, but in the middle of New York.

  
Dave was motionless, with the menus in his hands, just as surprised as Kurt was. His face looked thinner, more mature, and he had a longer haircut than Kurt remembered. "What a surprise," he said, with an embarrassed smile.

  
Maddie stared at Kurt, and then turned to Dave. "Do you know each other?"

  
Kurt replied blushing. "We attended the same high school."

  
Dave nodded and put the menus on the table.

  
Madeleine took one and looked through it absently.

  
"Yeah," Dave continued. "It's been a long time." He smoothed his apron and hoped he wouldn't make a bad impression after so many years.

  
"Oh, another guy from Ohio. How small the world is," laughed Maddie, unaware of the rather complicated situation between the two. "An octopus salad, and a crème brûlée."

  
"I’ll have same," Kurt said, without looking at the menu, and then cleared his throat. "Have you been working here a long time?"

  
Dave noticed Kurt had green-tinged blue eyes, a detail he had almost forgotten. His heart stopped in his chest. He didn't expect that question, and he was taken aback.

  
"The place is mine, but I try to help." He ran a hand through his hair, still a little awkward, pleasantly impressed by Kurt's reaction. He tried to give himself an air of confidence, remembering that he was no longer a teenager.

  
"In-incredible," said Kurt.

  
To avoid the discomfort and a silence that would have been somewhat mortifying, Dave grabbed the menus again. "I'll put your orders in to the kitchen immediately," he said, and added, with a quieter tone, "It’s nice to see you again, Kurt."

  
"You too," the other replied, but Dave had already left.

  
Maddie looked at him quizzically, her eyebrows raised. "Your ex-boyfriend?"

  
As in the movies, Kurt felt his breath leave him and he coughed, as if something had stuck in his throat. He spent several minutes denying it with perhaps too much conviction.

  
**

  
Dave sat back down at the counter, looking briefly at a mother, holding the hand of a little girl a few years old and heading for the bathroom. He lost himself in the sound of those steps and was interrupted at the sight of James walking away from the kitchen with two fried fish dishes.

  
His mind was carried away by that buzz, plunging him into past memories, now set aside in a dark corner of his memory. He saw the terrified and angry sixteen-year-old Dave pushing Kurt against the lockers of McKinley High School, hoping that the fury and violence would kill those strange desires he was slowly beginning to understand.

  
Kurt's face had brought to the light those conflicting feelings of love and hate that he had during the most formative years of his life, and Dave felt a sense of slight confusion, however it was matched by a surge of excitement and shyness that he thought he had left behind once he had entered adulthood. It was a feeling of almost childlike tenderness, but with dark emotions tied to it. A tormented first love, the one he now rarely thought of, but which marked, with its bitterness, many of the most important stages of his life.

  
The last memory that Dave had kept of Kurt Hummel dated back to at least ten years before, and that face, which he still remembered so clearly, still possessed a fresh youthful delicateness, enriched however by a certain maturity and refinement that Kurt had surely acquired during his life in New York.

  
A part of him, upon meeting Kurt again, immediately felt the desire to gain his approval, although his rational part mercilessly showed him the absurdity of those thoughts. It was a need he had no control over, like hunger or sleep. It was childish, irrational, and almost comical, but he couldn't pretend that need for Kurt's acceptance was gone. The tumultuous period he had been experiencing over the last several months had certainly reopened many wounds, making him more susceptible and leaving him inherently sensitive and at the mercy of old guilt-ridden feelings and emotions that were difficult to manage. Dave cursed that feeling of being mentally paralyzed and the knowledge that he would inevitably follow his heart instead of his head.

  
Had he met Kurt months earlier, his reaction would have been different, more normal, surprised, and less focused on memories and mistakes that he couldn't change.

  
Even though the details were unknown to him, he knew that Blaine had married Kurt impromptu alongside Brittany and Santana during their wedding ceremony, He had never asked too many questions. And although he considered their decision rather hasty, he had sent congratulations to Blaine, hoping for the two of them to have a happy future together.

  
He hoped that the Kurt he had seen, sitting at the table in front of that red-haired girl, was happy, satisfied, and that he was appreciated for his uniqueness, unlike the boy from Lima whom Dave remembered, and for whom he had made life nearly impossible.

  
Suzanne, wearing a long coat and winter gloves, interrupted his journey through memories, putting her hand on his shoulder. "I hope to see you at _Mystic Lion_ tomorrow night, otherwise this could turn out to be a tearful goodbye."

  
Dave turned to her tall figure and her thick black curls. Over her shoulder, she had a small white backpack with a lotus flower keychain.

  
"Is everything all right, Dave?" She asked worriedly, bringing her face closer to his. "Looks like you just saw a ghost."

  
Her skin smelled of lavender, evoking familiar and nostalgic feelings in Dave. "Just an old friend from high school," he replied, erasing from his face the shadow of concern that had made him look hurt.

  
To avoid further explanation, he stood up and grabbed Suzanne in a friendly hug. "I don't think I can come tomorrow night. I have to clear out the apartment, and will be exhausted once everything is finished."

  
Suzanne crossed her arms over her chest. "That's why you should come. What do you need friends for, if not to cheer you up?"

  
He shrugged. "At least you won't be jealous of me during the toast."

  
She laughed, but shook her head. "You're always the same," she said. "I'll wait for you anyway, and I think Rob and Diego will try to force you." She hugged him again, fleetingly. "Don't disappear, okay? You are my friend, a part of my life, and I want you to be part of Naja's life too. So try to stay put."

  
Dave nodded, overwhelmed by Suzanne's sincere face and the new life that was growing in her – a child who would soon see the world for the first time, and for whom he already felt a strong affection.

  
"I expect to receive at least fifty photos, you know that, right?"

  
Suzanne looked at him with amusement. "Oh, you will get tired of seeing her adorable little face before she’s a month old."

  
**

  
Kurt stopped Maddie from paying by taking out his wallet from his Louis Vuitton bag "Don't even think about it. I invited you.”

  
She started to argue, but Kurt silenced her with a hasty gesture. Madeleine pretended to pout, and her face took on that slightly childlike air that seemed to enchant every man, or woman, who met her.

  
"Next time you'll thank me with a slice of cheesecake," he told her, when his eyes met Dave's, who was responding to the friendly farewell of a pregnant woman who was about to leave the restaurant. Dave had gained confidence, and Kurt could feel it at a glance.

  
Dave smiled at him with a nod. There was still a certain shyness in his gaze, though masked by more a determined attitude and a smile devoid of the shadows that had haunted him during his early youth.

  
"Wait for me here," he said, turning to Maddie, without looking her in the eye. He didn't wait for an answer and went over to Dave, barely avoiding a collision with an elderly gentleman, whom he hadn't noticed. His confident expression turned into a slight blush of embarrassment.

  
"You should be careful where you put your feet," Dave told him with mock reproach, looking for some semblance of amicability.

  
Kurt hoped with all his heart to avoid an awkward silence, which is why he smiled at Dave's comment, chasing away the latent discomfort that wanted him to shut himself in. "I think meeting you surprised me more than I thought. I never imagined you would move to New York."

  
Dave breathed a sigh of relief, conscious of having avoided a potentially unpleasant situation.

  
He checked Kurt's bill total, tapping the keys on the cash register. Usually it was Suzanne's job, but Dave had always loved the perfect logic of numbers and equations, so running the register relaxed him.

  
"I'm still a boy from Lima, deep down. It was an adventure, but I wouldn't change anything." He smiled absently, perhaps losing himself in a pleasant memory. "If someone would've told me years ago that I would move to New York, I would have thought they were crazy."

  
Kurt saw Dave looking around with a light of pride in his eyes, as if admiring the place for the first time. He could feel the strong emotional bond that connected him to that place.

  
"I've been here two or three times, but I've never seen you," Kurt said.

  
The instant he spoke those words, Kurt saw Dave's face darken, and he cursed himself for saying them. Dave cleared his throat, avoiding Kurt's blue eyes. "I've been away for a while," he stated, without going into it. He handed Kurt the receipt, offering a smile that seemed to have lost the naturalness of a few seconds before. "It comes to thirty-two dollars. Dessert’s on the house."

  
Kurt gave a quick glance, nodding. "Thank you," he said, pulling out his card.

  
The awkward silence they were both afraid of began to appear. Dave bit his lip, and Kurt tried to avoid a direct look.

  
Dave thought about asking Kurt some frivolous questions, or inquiring about Blaine, but Kurt preemptively handed him an opalescent credit card with his name written on it in elegant italics.

  
Dave took a few seconds to feel the texture between his fingers. "Vice Director of Fashion Marketing at _Vogue_. Impressive." He held back a smile, and hastily wrote his phone number on one of the Sea Pearl's business cards, and wrote “Dave K.” on it.

  
He handed it to Kurt, who put it in his wallet.

  
"Oh please, David. You bought a restaurant in New York. I should be the one impressed."

  
Dave couldn't hold back an affectionate laugh, perhaps a little nostalgic. Kurt and his father were the only ones to call him David. "It's a nice compliment from you."  
Kurt found himself pleasantly struck by that new positivity that seemed to radiate from Dave's face. He was sure that in the right situation, putting aside the past, they could be friends.

  
"A well-deserved compliment," he replied.

  
Shortly afterwards, he found himself glancing quickly at his watch. He turned around with an apologetic look towards Maddie, who was waiting for him, standing at the entrance of the restaurant. "I'm in a bit of a hurry right now, but it would be nice to meet up for coffee."

  
Dave nodded, perhaps with too much excitement. "Great," he said. "I’d like that very much."

  
Kurt offered his hand and appreciated Dave's firm grip. "It was a pleasure to see you again," he said, before saying goodbye and heading towards Maddie.

  
Dave took one last look at him and slipped the business card into his jeans pocket.


	2. Chapter 2

After leaving the elevator, Kurt turned the key in the lock and pushed the front door with his elbow. He had a couple of folders of drafts and documents in his hands, and he held his cell phone between his shoulder and his head.

"Isabelle seemed excited about the interview. She wants to see you tomorrow morning to discuss the details together."

Madeleine's crystalline laughter could be heard though the speaker. “Fantastic. I just received the confirmation that I was waiting for by email.”

 _"Shit!"_ Kurt exclaimed, when a dozen of papers slipped from the briefcase and spread on the floor.

“Hey, I thought it was good news,” said Maddie, with a confused tone.

Kurt placed the keys and the rest of the papers on the white marble foyer table and grabbed the phone more comfortably. "No, no, it's wonderful news, really. I just lost my balance. We'll talk tomorrow about the rest, okay?”

The two exchanged goodbyes. Kurt let out a tired sigh followed by some cussing and gathered papers from the floor. He quickly checked that everything was in order and took off his coat and sunglasses, and then exchanged his shoes for a pair of comfortable slippers.

The clock showed eight o'clock. Kurt hoped that Tracy hadn't yet fallen asleep. He walked down the hall on tiptoes and heard the loving voice of Grace, their babysitter, from the partially opened door of Tracy's room, along with the more lively one of his daughter.

He opened the door quietly, noticing Grace sitting on the armchair, knitting, and Tracy lying on her stomach on the floor, with a red wax crayon held between her fingers. In front of her was a cute drawing of two cats, one of them with a crimson bow, which she was working to perfect. She noticed him immediately, and her eyes lit up.

"Daddy!" Tracy stood up and ran into Kurt's arms. He stroked her dark brown hair. She wore two untidy braids that Kurt loved to do for her every morning before taking her to kindergarten. "I missed you," she told him, rubbing her face on his white shirt. Kurt knelt down to the little girl's height and kissed her forehead.

"I missed you too, honey. Hi, Grace," he said, turning to the woman in front of him.

The woman, with dyed blond hair and eyeglasses, smoothed her dress and approached him. "Welcome back,,Kurt. We had a nice day, and Tracy decided to draw kittens. We saw two of them while coming back from kindergarten, didn't we?"

Tracy nodded, and ran to get the drawing, showing it to Kurt. "She," the girl pointed to the gray female cat with the red bow, "is called Belle. And he is Choco because he is the same color as chocolate. He's a friend of Tubby," she said, pointing to the other cat, which was a little larger than the first one, but darker brown with white paws.

Kurt laughed tenderly, thinking of Brittany and Santana's overweight cat, whom Tracy loved so much. "Oh," he replied. "And how did Choco and Tubby meet?"

"They went to the same school, but Tubby always wanted to play with Choco's toys and he didn't like it, so they don't talk much anymore."

"I hope they make up soon." Kurt straightened her sweater, which had pull up her stomach as the girl stood up. He undid her braids and ran his hand through her brown hair, letting it hang loose down her back.

"I hope so too, but Tubby is too lazy to apologize."

Grace, who had prepared her bag in the meantime, hugged Tracy. "See you tomorrow, little one. Be good.”

Tracy returned the embrace, and grabbed Grace's finger, weaving it with her own. "I promise."

Kurt took the drawing from her hand. It was a little crumpled, but he managed to prop it up on the bedside table near Tracy's bed.

"I’m going to walk Grace to the door. Meanwhile, put on your pajamas." Tracy sat down and began to take off her stockings.

Once they reached the doorway, Kurt handed Grace her coat. "Thank you for everything," he said with a grateful smile.

She put a hand on his shoulder. "She is a lovely child, Kurt– and very smart. We learned a poem, which she has to recite at kindergarten tomorrow. She is very sure of herself, and it didn't take her long to memorize it." She thoughtfully put a finger to her lip. "I cooked macaroni and cheese. It's in the oven. Should be enough for both of you. I wanted her to eat before, but she preferred to wait for you and keep drawing.”

Kurt could only be proud. Tracy had proved herself very talented, despite being only five years old. She liked singing, making up stories, and drawing. In her looks and personality, the union of Rachel, her birth mother, and Blaine could be seen, but with a lot more modesty.

In kindergarten she was praised for the natural ease with which she made friends and for her innate creativity. She knew how to adapt to situations and liked the company of others. Kurt tried to nurture these qualities by creating imaginary characters with her, by teaching her to write and read, by simply spending time talking with her, and through asking questions and urging her to look for answers. Tracy learned quickly, even if sometimes she only copied the letters as if they were drawings.

"She’s always had a good memory," Kurt said, remembering how Tracy, only a few months earlier, had been able to learn the numbers from one to twenty, as if they were a nursery rhyme.

"It's true. And she's really excited about Thanksgiving. She hasn’t been talking about anything else."

"She loves singing. She’s very excited to perform in front of everyone."

Grace put on her coat, scarf, and gloves. "She is a little star, no doubt." The woman had a delicate, persuasive tone of voice, and her appearance resembled a fairytale character. She loved pink and jewels, and she still wore her wedding band, despite having been widowed years before. She was a good-looking woman, but she could not have children and had never remarried after her husband's death.

It had been difficult for Kurt and Blaine to find a babysitter who satisfied both of their requirements. Kurt wanted someone who had the proper references and who inspired confidence, while Blaine also hoped for a refined woman, with a medium-high cultural level. Grace was a well-off, middle-aged woman who loved being with children and had a very respectable resume. She was a charming lady, who was polite and affectionate, but also very motherly and classy. Tracy had grown fond of her right away, and she loved when Grace read fairytales or taught her to cook.

"See you tomorrow, Grace. Thanks again."

The woman smiled at him.

Kurt closed the door and locked it by turning the key. He checked a second time that there was nothing out of place and turned up the heat.

He returned to Tracy, who was wearing white pajamas with frogs, paired with warm rabbit-shaped slippers. She was looking at a picture book of _Sleeping Beauty_. The clothes she had worn during the day, a pink sweater and a pair of jeans with heart-shaped pockets, were folded on the bed. Not perfectly, but Kurt was glad she tried.

A part of him, hidden deep inside, wanted Tracy to be totally dependent on him, like years before, when she needed to be fed, dressed, and washed. He had an underlying fear of losing her and seeing her grow up too soon.

He knew how selfish these thoughts were, so he acted contrary to them and tried to teach Tracy to be independent. He had her keep room orderly, fold her clothes, and get her backpack ready to take to kindergarten. Unfortunately, he could not always maintain these routines, and oftentimes Tracy fell asleep in Kurt's arms before she was even wearing her pajamas. On those occasions, it was Kurt who did everything for her. He changed her and put her to bed, following the desires of his subconscious, which wanted her to be a child forever.

"I’ve read that book to you a million times," Kurt laughed, moving closer.

Tracy clutched the book to her chest, as she tried to protect it. "I like it a lot. Will you read it for me before bedtime?”

Kurt kissed her head, nodding. "Sure, but first we have to eat the macaroni that Grace cooked."

He sat down next to her, and she laid her legs across Kurt's lap. "This is a really nice foot," Kurt said, using a low, low voice and trying to hold back his laughter. "What can we do with it?"

Tracy clutched her stomach and laughed loudly. "No, Tickle Monster! Don’t hurt me!"

Kurt grabbed Tracy's foot and tickled it with just his fingertips. It didn't take long for the her to laugh and kick, trying to break free.

They played for a few minutes, then he told her to go to the kitchen.

"I folded my clothes, Daddy. Did you see? Can I have pancakes?"

She looked at him with those wide-open big, dark eyes, and Kurt knew it would be too hard to say no.

  


  


**2020**

_The birth of Tracy went smooth, more than they had hoped for._

_Jesse and Blaine still looked_ _as_ _pale_ _as_ _ghosts, while Kurt had held Rachel's hand and talked her_ _throughout_ _the whole ordeal. It had lasted twelve long hours, but they were all glad there_ _were no complications._

_Jesse was now caressing Rachel's hair, as she held Tracy in her arms. The baby was dozing on the softness of her breast, and she sighed. Kurt and Blaine were awed by the beauty and perfection of the scene, so similar to a Renaissance painting._

_Rachel had a sweaty forehead, and her hair_ _was_ _tied_ _back_ _with a_ _hair band._ _She was exhausted but happy, and she felt more alive than she ever_ _had_ _. It was incredible, she thought, how that tiny baby was alive because of her._

_She had to_ _s_ _low down her working schedule a lot during the pregnancy, and at times she questioned her decision to help Kurt and Blaine_ _to have_ _a child, but now that Tracy was safe and healthy in her arms she thought it was all worth it._

_"Look, Tracy," Rachel whispered, bringing her face close to the baby's ear. "Those are your daddies. I have two daddies too, you know?”_

_Tracy made an adorable sound, and Blaine covered his mouth. He approached them first and touched his daughter's tiny nose with the tip of his finger. Welcome to the world, Tracy Hummel-Anderson."_

_Rachel smiled, very fatigued, with noticeable dark circles and a paler complexion._

_Blaine's eyes were wet with tears. She_ _made_ _more cute sounds, as if she wanted to laugh but didn't know yet how. "I_ _w_ _ould do anything for her_ _._ _I love her so much_ _,_ _Kurt ... " Blaine turned to_ _Kurt,_ _who was_ _standing still_ _, in silence_

_Blaine took a few steps towards Kurt with her in his arms, which allowed Kurt to see_ _Tracy up close, a small bundle wrapped in a pink blanket. Blaine put her in Kurt's arms, and he began to rock her, as if he knew the baby would like it. He gave his finger to her, and she tight_ _ened_ _her_ _grip on it as a reflex. Kurt cried, as if the emotions he had held back were finally free, flow_ _ing_ _into him like a river in flood and leaving him at the mercy of them. Of new sensations and_ _only_ _words too ordinary, too superficial, to be able to describe them. At the mercy of a love so great as_ _to be_ _frightening._ _O_ _f a joy profound enough to make him tear up._

 _He stroked Tracy's little face and admired her features._ _A few_ _dark hairs sprouted from her head_ _._ _H_ _er nose was the smallest Kurt had ever seen_ _. Her_ _skin was still red,_ _and slightly purplish_ _. Tracy's eyes reminded him of Blaine's, in shape, in_ _color_ _, brown with green_ _flecks_ _, and in_ _her_ _thick eyelashes. There was not much of Kurt, of his fair skin and his blue eyes in_ _Tracy’s features_ _, yet he_ _saw himself reflected_ _in her,_ _like_ _a spell._

_Different blood flowed in their veins, but Tracy was a part of him. The beat of their hearts, the air that entered their lungs, her small hand clasped to one of his finger_ _s – as_ _if they could not exist without each other._

_Through his tears, he thought,_ _"I'll never leave you."_

_Tracy closed her eyes again and fell asleep in Kurt's arms. He squeezed her gently, carefully holding her head with his hand._

_The_ _nurses came in to_ _take Tracy for the newborn screenings._ _Within a_ _few minutes, Kurt was already missing her._

_Tracy_ _knew nothing of evil,_ _o_ _f_ _suffering, or sadness. There was only_ _the_ _pure need for love inside her._

_It was_ _touching_ _in a way he couldn't explain._

_Blaine leaned his face against_ _Kurt’s_ _shoulder. "She is beautiful," he whispered, and Kurt could do nothing but nod,_ _still_ _crying._

_"She's perfect."_

  


  


**2025**

Kurt opened the refrigerator and took out two eggs and a carton of milk. He added them to flour and sugar and began mixing by hand with a wooden spoon. Tracy fiddled with her fork, bringing the macaroni she had previously smashed to her mouth.

"You know that I don't like it when you play with food," he told her firmly. Tracy looked at him guilty, but naughty. She knew very well that Kurt wouldn't really get angry at her, and sometimes she took advantage of it. "They look like insects," she said, staring at the half-empty plate and twirling the fork in the sauce.

Kurt approached her and kissed her head. "We're lucky they aren't really insects, and they look more like cashews to me."

They looked at each other and they both burst out laughing.

Kurt took a skillet and warmed it on the stove. "You can't eat pancakes if you don't finish the whole dish."

Tracy started eating faster. "I want them, but I'm not that hungry because Karen brought chocolate cookies for her birthday, and I ate five of them."

Kurt pretended to be upset. "You really eat too many sweets," he concluded, shaking his head. "Maybe I shouldn't be making pancakes for you." Out of the corner of his eye, he watched her pounce on him, the fork still clutched in her hand.

"Please, Daddy!" She grabbed his shirt, trying to look taller on tiptoes.

Kurt tried to keep a serious expression, but he had to turn away from her, to not be discovered. "I'm still not sure. How will you convince me?" He looked at her with a raised eyebrow, holding back a smile.

Tracy looked thoughtful, her hand put to her chin. "I can read something for you."

Kurt broke into a warm smile, as Tracy brought her knuckles to her mouth, biting them a little with her baby teeth. "You win, but only this time." Kurt approached the table and grabbed the bowl containing the pancake mixture.

Tracy grabbed him by the pants, and he looked at her quizzically.

"Something wrong?"

She told him to sit still and she posed, standing in the middle of the kitchen. "I need you to listen to something."

Kurt remembered the poem Grace had told him about that Tracy had learned quickly. He would have tried to get her to recite it before bedtime, threatening her with tickling, but he was proud to see that there was no need for it and that Tracy was sure of her abilities.

Kurt had been a silent child, especially after his mother died. His natural shyness had turned into childhood depression in those years, and only his father's tenacity and unconditional love had helped him open up again to the world and concentrate on the future, rather than living in the dark memories of the past.

Even when questioned by teachers, Kurt remained silent and couldn't look anyone in the eye, as if he were afraid he’d cry first glance. He avoided any kind of physical contact, even a simple handshake. His dad was the only one he was really open with. They had tea parties and Kurt made him watch musicals and Disney movies. That lasted until around middle school, when he started to imagine himself in a bigger city, making his dreams come true.

Tracy was different. She liked company, and making friends was natural to her. She loved to be praised and pampered and to be the center of attention.

She cleared her throat, and recited:

  


_There was a little turtle._

_He lived in a box._

_He swam in a puddle._

_He climbed on the rocks._

  


_He snapped at a mosquito._

_He snapped at a flea._

_He snapped at a minnow._

_And he snapped at me._

  


_He caught the mosquito._

_He caught the flea._

_He caught the minnow-_

_But he didn't catch me!_

  


Kurt came up to her and hugged her to his chest, moving her bangs and kissing her forehead. "You were very good, my darling."

Tracy laughed, but tried to free herself.

"Daddy, I can't breathe."

"Sorry. Sorry." He loosened his grip and wiped his eyes, hoping that Tracy would not notice that moment of emotion.

She had a pink flush to her cheeks, and a hint of shyness was painted in her eyes. "Did you really like it?" She held her hands behind her back, and moved her foot back and forth, waiting.

Kurt added a pinch of cocoa to the bowl, not too much to make the mixture bitter but enough to give it the chocolate flavor that Tracy loved. "Not only did I like it," he said, using the sweetest tone possible. "I also think you will be the best tomorrow."

Tracy clapped her hand and hugged him. "Thanks, Daddy." She remained silent for a few seconds, sat down at the table, and quickly ate the last macaroni left on her plate, now chilled. She looked thoughtful, like she wanted to say something, but wasn't sure how.

Kurt turned the first pancake over, looking at her to make sure she was okay. "Everything good?" he asked, opening a cupboard and pulling out a blue ceramic plate.

She nodded. "Can I call Papa on Skype and have him listen to the poem?" She looked at the kitchen clock, although she still couldn't tell time.

Kurt sighed, approaching her.

Blaine might have been too busy to answer, and Kurt preferred to schedule their video calls early, so as not to hurt Tracy.

At first they had handled the situation in a different, more spontaneous way, but with Blaine's career taking off, this had no longer been possible. Blaine had a complicated schedule to keep, meetings with fans, interviews, photo shoots, and often it was not possible for him to be a full-time father, as he would have liked. Even Kurt's relationship with Rachel had become more distant, and her presence in New York more sporadic, after the start of the tour that had seen her and Blaine team up in the largest cities of the United States. Tracy always spoke with pride about Blaine, and her eyes sparkled when she saw a picture of him in a magazine, but she couldn't pretend she wasn't disappointed when he couldn't answer her calls or spend time with her.

“Maybe Papa is already sleeping. We will call him tomorrow after you wake up."

He wasn't sure what Blaine's schedule was for the next day. They had scheduled a video call in two days, but he would have to do whatever he could to get him to talk to Tracy.

"Okay." Tracy had a tired smile that was interrupted by a yawn.

Kurt hoped she wasn't too sad. He handed her a plate with three still-hot pancakes, with a pat of butter and a trickle of maple syrup.

Tracy's face became brighter.

He sat down next to her, cutting the pancakes into small pieces. “Don't eat too fast. Afterwards, go brush your teeth."

  


**2023**

_"I ... I can't," Blaine whispered. "Not anymore."_ _He was trembling, slumped on the ground, his face streaked with tears and his arms tight around his body, as if a threat loomed over him. The shards of a broken plate were scattered between their figures._

_Kurt remained motionless, his heart in his throat. He took a step, but was interrupted by a strangled sob, and could not get too close._

_"Everything is wrong..."_

_They both knew that the romantic veneer of their first love, which had united them for a long time, had now started to peel showing the true nature of their relationship, but admitting it out loud would have been like giving in to failure._

_Kurt and Blaine were both perfectionists, albeit in distinct ways, and getting married very young had strengthened their expectation of a timeless feeling that would hold steadfast in the face of all adversities like a predestined bond that could not be broken. Accepting defeat would change their lives, beliefs, and ideals._

_Yet that break was evident, like the gash in an old, no longer wearable dress._

_Their increasingly sporadic touches showed how they not longer desired to be close. And a sense of dissatisfaction permeated their lives, quarrels that no longer ended in caresses and confessions of love, but only with silences that often lasted entire days._

_"You have to tell me what happened," Kurt pleaded, but a part of him already knew it. He found confirmation in Blaine's serious gaze that avoided his own, in his dilated pupils, in his uninterrupted crying. Kurt knew what happened, but he was afraid to talk about it. He tried to exorcise that demon, taking one step towards the other. He made his way by treading on the ceramic shreds with his slippers, but he didn't touch Blaine, as if he were afraid of his sudden reaction. "You have to tell me ..." he said again, and this time his voice dragged, resembling a plea._

_"I can't take it anymore, Kurt." Blaine swallowed, trying to get his breath back. This time he stared at Kurt with a guilty expression._

_Kurt found his hypotheses confirmed. "Who was he? And don't tell me it doesn't matter because it sure as hell matters!" Anger made him tremble, and he had to grab the fabric of his pants and squeeze it between his fingers. He grabbed a rag and threw it at Blaine. "Who. Was. He." He would have screamed and maybe slapped him, if the memory of his daughter, who slept nearby, had not forced him to calm down. He considered himself lucky that Tracy had not already woken up after the plate shattered._

_Blaine shook his head several times and held his face in his hands. "I don't know who he was. I didn't want to do it. We ... we just touched each other."_

_Kurt let out an ironic laugh, full of resentment. "Do you think that changes anything?" He experienced a strong feeling of disgust, imagining his husband's hands caressing another man's bare skin. Those lips he knew, resting on those of an unknown shadow with no name or face._

_He wondered when it had happened, but the fear of finding out that the cheating was before the last time he slept with Blaine made him physically sick._

_Blaine stared at an unspecified point on the wall, feeling defeated. "No," he concluded. "I don't think it changes anything."_

_Kurt wiped his eyes, but his revulsion pushed him away. Being physically next to Blaine made him feel dirty. "I don't know what you can do to be forgiven by me. I don't want to forgive you, Blaine. I'm disgusted. How could you do that again to me? After all those promises! How could I ever trust you?! All of you can think about – damn, all you could ever think about – were your own needs!"_

_He didn't know if he would ever be able to sleep in the same bed with him, if he could ever laugh with him as he once did, if he would ever be ready to share a semblance of everyday life with him – even if it was fake._

_It was all in pieces._

_"I don't think you should forgive me."_

_With those words, Kurt's anger dissipated, as if he had been doused with ice water. "Wha - what did you say?" he asked in a thin, barely audible voice._

_He noticed, looking inside himself, that the romantic love he once felt towards Blaine had dissipated, and only a vague memory of it remained. It would have been easy to use another cheating episode as an excuse, but it would have been a lie. As much as that disgusted every fiber of his being, he hadn't been in love with Blaine in years._

_He loved Blaine, but he was no longer in love with him._

_It had been a gradual change, which had evolved over time but which both had preferred to ignore._

_"I don't think you should forgive me, Kurt," Blaine said. "What I did is unfair, but it happened because I'm unhappy."_

_Oh, Blaine and his freaking unhappiness. First time it was lon_ _e_ _liness._

_Kurt was unhappy too, but he never had the desire to jump into someone else's bed._

_He hated Blaine and himself too. Their daughter was often the only reason he didn't fall into depression and self-loathing. He wanted to be enough, but he never was. Not for Blaine. And he_ _continued_ _trying, and trying, all by himself, to keep their relationship from crumbling._

_He was emotionally exhausted._

_There was a strange resignation painted on Blaine's face, as if he were just realizing a conclusion he had long since come to. Kurt had never seen him so calm, and this infuriated him even more._

_The fact that he was willing to seek a solution once again, but Blaine dismissed everything with a shrug._

_"Look at me, Blaine," he ordered him firmly. Blaine finally met his gaze, but Kurt saw no fear or despair._

_"Do you think this is easy for me?" he kept going. "All I wanted was your help to make this work. But you were always busy doing somet_ _h_ _ing better. We have a daughter, or did you already forget about her?"_

_An image formed in Kurt's mind. That of a crying three-year-old girl who called for her Papa. His unhappiness, or Blaine's, went into the background. It was no longer about the break up of two teenagers. This was a divorce of two men with a daughter._

_This made everything terribly complicated, and Kurt felt a primal terror, which_ _seeped_ _right into his bones._

_"I know," Blaine replied, finally standing back up._

_They were facing each other. Kurt wanted to run away, shut himself in the bathroom, pinch himself, and wake up in their bed, like after a bad dream._

“ _We have to end it here, for Tracy too. We both deserve to be happy, and she deserves to grow up in a peaceful environment, without all this resentment and frustration. I feel like I’m in a cage, Kurt, like I'm going crazy. And don't tell me you don't feel the same."_

_Kurt started to cry, knowing that this particular moment would mark their breaking point. It was a chapter that had come to an end, something that would permanently change his life, and that of Tracy. He felt a strong sense of guilt when a feeling of relief rushed through him, as if an enormous weight had been_ _lifted_ _from his shoulders._

_He knew it was over, and he didn't have the strength or desire to change th_ _at_ _fact._

_Blaine put a hand on his shoulder, and Kurt let himself be touched, despite not wanting any physical contact from him. It had the bitter taste of a farewell,_ _which_ _he was unable to shake off._

“ _I feel happy when I perform, and that's what I want to focus on. I really want to try."_

_Kurt let out a sad and sarcastic laugh. "So you're leaving me for the spotlight? How surprising."_

_Blaine's gaze softened, and his tone of voice also became more affectionate. “This doesn't change the fact that you are my family, and I don't regret what we've been through. I certainly don't regret having Tracy. You will always be a priority. I just want to try to be happy, and I think you too_ _have to_ _find your own happiness."_

_"After you destroyed me," thought Kurt, this time moving Blaine's hand away._ _"You need to be gone in the morning."_

_Blaine nodded, and kissed Kurt's cheek._

_Kurt ran to the bathroom and em_ _t_ _pied his stomach._

  


**2025**

_“The prince entered the bedroom at the top of the tower and was amazed at the beauty of Princess Aurora. He kissed her on the lips, and she opened her eyes. Their love had broken the witch's spell.”_ Kurt pushed a strand of hair away from his sleeping daughter's face and closed the book after saying the last words. _"And they all lived happily ever after,"_ he whispered.

Tracy was breathing deeply, hugging her favorite stuffed rabbit. He arranged the blanket for her and couldn't help but think of how much she had grown, transforming herself in height and appearance, without him realizing it.

She had delicate features, a rounded face and long brown hair like Rachel's. Kurt could see Blaine's shadow in her, in her eyes - of the same shape and color - and in the curve and proportion of her lips. She was slender, but had long legs and a sweet smile, always sparkling and full of life.

Kurt kissed her forehead, and she let out a sigh in her sleep, which made him smile fondly.

"Sleep well, my little one," he murmured, before turning off the light, leaving a smaller one near Tracy's bed on, and closing the door behind him.

  


**2023**

" _I don't know what to do." Kurt wiped his eyes, looking at Tracy sitting on the sofa next to Brittany, who was showing her photos of herself as a child._

_She was holding a big album in her hands, and Tracy nodded, curious._

_"I can't make her feel better."_

_Santana rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “She's just adjusting to the idea. When my abuelo died I was a little older than she was, and even I couldn't stop crying."_

_Something about Kurt snapped, and he used an irritated tone directed to her, as if Santana had hit him in a sensitive spot. "Blaine isn't dead!"_

_Brittany glanced at both of them, and Santana accompanied Kurt to a more secluded corner._

_"I'm sorry," he said. "I don't know what's wrong with me."_

_She invited him to sit down, and pulled her long black hair into a ponytail, reminiscent of her cheerleader days. She wore a beige t-shirt with the logo of a hockey team and a pair of shorts that left her thighs uncovered._

_"You should calm down, first off. I'll make you a cup of tea, even if you seem to need a Scotch a lot more."_

_She put some water in a cute cow_ _themed_ _kettle on to boil._

_Kurt looked around. The kitchen was decorated with a large clock in the shape of a cat, which meowed at the stroke of every hour. A bizarre-shaped vase had been placed on the table, similar to a fish with a wide-open mouth, from which elegant hydrangeas sprouted with shades of midnight blue and purple. Brittany's touch could be seen everywhere, while Santana was more traditional with her gray and black tones. Their home was a complete union of both their characters, so different yet harmonizing._

_"You're right," Kurt replied, holding his face in his hands. "I just wish it was easier."_

_Santana sat next to him and looked him in the eye. A wave of intimidation passed through Kurt. "Listen to me, Lady Lips," she said. "I'm not going to repeat this.”_

_Kurt could see his blue eyes reflected in hers. He expected to be judged, but found only blind support, something quite unusual for Santana. “Being a parent is not an easy task, and I think you are doing well. Tracy is an adorable little girl. She is the biological daughter of Rachel Berry and Blaine Anderson, but I have never heard her scream the songs of_ West Side Story _, or behave like an irritating diva. I think you did a great job, and even if things don't work anymore between you and Blaine – that doesn't make you a bad parent.”_

_Kurt was amazed. Santana's emotional side and her compliments, were usually reserved for Brittany, while anyone else who knew her, including him, rarely heard anything that wasn't filled with sarcasm. Kurt had lived with her and Rachel for a year, between ups and downs, theirs was a love-hate relationship, littered with childish skirmishes and insults screamed at each other without really thinking._

_"Do - Do you really think so?"_

_Santana got up and poured the contents of the kettle into a black and white patterned cup, which resembled a matching cow. "I'm not going to repeat myself, Hummel," she said again, opening a box of tea bags. "Lemon, berries, or ginger?" She showed him the open box, the sachets arranged in three neat rows. Kurt wiped his eyes. "Ginger."_

_The cow cup was placed in front of him, with the tea bag floating inside. Santana sat down again. "Now I want you to take a deep breath because when you cry you make too many irritating noises for my taste, and Britt would be angry if I kicked you out." Kurt nodded, testing the tea. It was warm, but not overly_ _so_ _, and Kurt loved its spicy, somewhat peculiar flavor._

_"I'm sorry about before," he admitted._

_Santana sighed, as she opened a can of Coke that she had taken from one of the six-packs she kept under the table. “I don't care about the apology. I want to fix this and go to sleep, if you don't mind. You came to us for a reason, didn't you? "_

_"For Brittany," Kurt whispered. "Tracy loves her, and I thought being with her would make her feel better."_

_Santana smiled. “Finish drinking your tea and_ _let’s go_ _see. You are about to witness some magic."_

_Kurt started to get up. "What magic?"_

_She leaned around the doorway that connected the kitchen to the living room and motioned for him to come closer which he did carefully._

_Brittany’s and Tracy's voices were barely audible. "Listen carefully," Santana said, bringing her forefinger to her lips._

_Kurt strained his ear and heard Tracy's crystalline laughter. He had missed that sound terribly._

_For days, she had done nothing but cry, asking about Blaine. They had planned family outings together, but they only made the girl happy until the moment of separation._

_After the divorce, Blaine had rented an apartment in Queens and had agreed that Kurt would take care of Tracy full time because of his more stable hours._

_Blaine had recently been cast in a Broadway production written by an emerging screenwriter, who saw him as Rachel's romantic partner. He was working his way up, and_ _enjoyed_ _performing pop songs in small independent concerts in various theaters. His friendship with Rachel, which the newspapers often reported about, was helping him incredibly in his climb to success. Kurt could only be happy for him, even if this professional triumph considerably diminished the time that Blaine had available for Tracy. He wasn’t doing it on purpose, and he tried to dedicate every minute of his free time to her, but his constant commitments made the situation even more complicated._

_Kurt felt exhausted, as if he had a fever and hadn't slept for days._

_Tracy pointed with her finger to a faded photo of a blonde girl in pink shorts, holding a striped brown kitten in her arms, who was trying to free itself from her embrace by pushing with its front paws._

_"Oh," Brittany exclaimed in surprise. “Lord Tubbington was only a few months old. I knew he was going to be a rebellious cat, so I started giving him some chocolate to make him sweeter.” She shrugged, and covered Tracy's legs with a blanket. She wore long-sleeved purple pajamas, with penguins climbing on small ice cubes._

_Tracy chuckled. "I'd like to have a cat," she said._

_As she continued to trace the photo with her fingers, her gaze became sad and thoughtful. “Maybe Papa went away because I'm not a good girl, although Daddy says that's not true. I cry a lot and I don't like to eat vegetables."_

_Brittany opened her arms. "Come here," she said, and Tracy snuggled close to her, resting her head on Brittany's chest. She caressed her hair and kissed her head. "Even Lord Tubbington missed his mommy and daddy at the beginning."_

_Tracy looked at her in surprise. "Really?"_

_Brittany nodded. “He thought they weren't happy with him or something. He was upset because he believed they didn't love him. But do you know what happened?"_

_"What?" she asked, sitting up. She grabbed Brittany's pajamas with her little hand, making her laugh._

“ _Lord Tubbington's daddy was a great actor, a famous one, like the ones on TV. He couldn’t be at home everyday because he had to make movies in a lot of far away countries. He once dedicated one to Lord Tubbington." She laughed. "But despite his busy schedule, when he had time he knocked on our door because he couldn't stay away from Lord Tubbington for too long."_

_Tracy looked at her with wide eyes, and a whole world opened up to her mind's eyes. She saw cats holding cameras in their paws, shining spotlights everywhere, and a cat, with a top hat and a big mustache, who signed autographs and was always surrounded by other famous cats, but who felt too lonely so he knocked on Brittany's door to say goodnight to Lord Tubbington. "Did he still love him?" Tracy asked._

_Brittany brought her face close to Tracy's and winked at her. “I have never seen anyone love their child like him. I was almost jealous. Even when Lord Tubbigton joined a motorcycle gang, his daddy was on his side." This time Tracy laughed heartily, imagining Brittany's fat cat riding a motorcycle. "What about his mommy?"_

_"Look," Brittany replied, grabbing the photo album again and leafing through it carefully. She showed Tracy a photo of a black and white cat, close to Lord Tubbington, lying next to him. “This is his mommy. I believe she is a princess or a duchess. She was also very busy, but she wrote him letters every day, and once she ran away from her castle to visit us. They spent all day in front of the TV watching soap operas."_

_"She's smaller than him," said Tracy, laughing. Brittany did not lose her seriousness, as she showed Tracy a photo on the opposite page, which showed her offering a chocolate bar to Lord Tubbington, who seemed to ignore her completely, too busy dozing. "His chocolate diet had already started, and he has always been too lazy to exercise."_

_Tracy grabbed a strand of Brittany's blond hair, which cascaded her shoulders like waves. They were soft, and she liked to touch them. “Papa took me to the cinema, and we ate a lot of popcorn. Daddy was angry because then I had a stomachache. But I had so much fun."_

_Brittany held her tightly, and the girl threw her arms around her neck. “Maybe they love you even more than Lord Tubbington's parents. I remember once they took a whole afternoon just to decide what to buy for your first birthday."_

_Tracy's gaze brightened. “Thanks, Aunt Brittany. I love you."_

_She kissed Tracy’s cheek, which smelled of fragrant soap. "I love you too."_

_She opened the album to one of the last pages, which showed her next to Santana with their respective families. Brittany's younger sister looked like her like a doppelganger._

_"I'll show you one last thing."_

_She gestured for Tracy to look at a photo of Blaine and Kurt, sitting on the same sofa where she was with Brittany at the time._

_It had been taken in the winter, because they both wore warm clothes, Blaine a checkered sweater and Kurt a high-necked black and white one. It seemed they hadn't noticed the camera,_ _too caught up in_ _looking at a baby wrapped in a blanket, one with the design of a teddy bear wearing a ballerina tutu. The infant’s face could be seen as she rested in Blaine’s arms while Kurt fed her a bottle of milk._

_Tracy was enchanted looking at those faces that she knew so well, in that intimate moment, which she could not remember._

_"You were just a few months old," said Brittany. "I've known your dads for a long time, but I've never seen them so happy."_

_Tracy remained silent, staring at that photo with shining eyes._ _H_ _er expression finally relaxed, and her heart was fee_ _ling_ _light for the first time in several weeks._

_It was no longer just words. It wasn't Daddy or Papa saying that they loved her. She could see it with her own eyes._

_The urge to sing came back to her, but suddenly she felt too tired, and she fell asleep in Brittany's arms._

_Kurt watched the scene with Santana nearby. He had listened to their words and seen Tracy's reactions._

_He thought it was impossible, that he was imagining it._

_Tracy had not slept that peacefully in weeks and could only do so in Kurt's bed while being cuddled with_ _his_ _cell phone near her ear and Blaine's voice speaking to her. She had lost her natural curiosity, and had closed in on herself. Kurt could only keep her interest during their walks or when they fed the ducks in Central Park, but it was still a fleeting happiness, which disappeared a few hours later when they returned home._

_The brunette looked at him with raised eyebrow. "Did you see?" She said. "Magic."_

_Tracy had laughed. She laughed and fell asleep normally, as she had before the divorce. He wiped his eyes, still unable to believe it._

_"My wife, Lady Lips_ _,_ _" Santana shrugged. "Nobody can resist her."_

  


_**2025** _

After brushing his teeth, Kurt turned on the lights in his bedroom and opened the imposing window that opened onto a small balcony, which was used on rare summer occasions. Taking a deep breath of the cold late November air, he felt invigorated, like after a cup of coffee.

In the distance, he could hear the noise of traffic, and the slightly drunken laughs that came from the Italian restaurant on the opposite side of the street.

He lived in an apartment in Manhattan that he and Blaine had bought after Kurt's rise to the _Vogue_ editorial office and with the financial help of Blaine's family. They had opted for a bright apartment, with a long corridor that separated the living and sleeping areas, consisting of three bedrooms, one of which was used for occasional visits by Burt and Carole, Blaine's parents, or Blaine himself.

He left the window open, and headed toward the large closet, which covered the entire right wall of the room. His image was reflected in the glass of a rectangular, full-length mirror.

His hair was little disheveled, but overall he was satisfied with his appearance.

After divorcing Blaine, Kurt started a long journey to reach self-acceptance and visited a therapist twice a week. It helped accepting that he was never going to be perfect, but he always did the best he could, therefore he could be proud of his achievements. He also discovered dark sides of his previous relationship with Blaine that were previously unknown, and realized how toxic they had been. Blaine often controlled and manipulated him in ways so subtle that Kurt himself had never noticed, but that slowly killed his whole being. He was more aware of maintaining his boundaries and was learning to love himself as much as others.

Blaine worked on himself too. Once he had called Kurt in the middle of the night in tears, actually apologizing about things from their past. He was still Blaine – self-centered, attention-seeking Blaine – but he was more careful with his behavior, and Kurt was no longer afraid to tell him when he was acting like a spoiled brat.

He undid his shirt and pulled off his pants. Then after folding his clothes, he placed them on a vintage cobalt armchair. He put on his pajamas and let himself fall onto the queen bed, which had floral-patterned sheets.

On the bedside table, Kurt had a reading lamp, a bouquet of fresh flowers, and a table clock next to three framed photos. One of them portrayed him on the day of Tracy's birth, sitting on the hospital bed next to Rachel with baby Tracy in his arms.

Rachel was leaning towards him, looking tenderly at the face of the newborn. Kurt had swollen eyes and was wearing not-so-stylish clothes that he had thrown on randomly in the rush to leave the house. It didn't do justice to his physical appearance or his sense of style, but if Kurt had to save only one photograph during a catastrophic event, it would have been that one.

The second image depicted the marriage of Burt and Elizabeth Hummel, his parents.

It was black and white, and his father had an almost frightened and embarrassed expression in his stiffness. He was wearing a dark tuxedo, and he still had thick, light brown hair. His mother was slender, wearing a white gown and holding a bouquet of roses in her hands. Unlike Burt, Elizabeth smiled sweetly and looked younger than her twenty-two years of age, almost like a teenager at her prom, rather than a bride.

Kurt grabbed the third frame. He smiled back at his own face, relaxed in the photo, standing next to a giraffe with Tracy on his shoulders. She stretched her chubby arm out to pet the animal. Blaine was at his side, holding a big ice cream cone.

He remembered the warm sun of that summer afternoon, the smell of dirt and grass that permeated the zoo and Tracy crying because she wanted to adopt a goat with whom she had made friends after feeding it some hay. They had bought her ice cream to distract her, and Blaine had wanted one too, one so big that Kurt had to help him finish it. It had been a happy period of his life, almost idyllic in its simplicity, but it hid fears, remorse, and the feeling that it would not last forever.

Kurt put the photograph away, and grabbed his cell phone.

His body was overcome by a feeling of nostalgia, and slight solitude.

He searched for Blaine’s name, and after a moment of indecision, decided that he wanted to hear his voice.

The phone rang once, twice, three times, when Kurt heard Blaine's voice on the other side, muffled by the chatter of what seemed to be a party. There was laughter and an old Katy Perry song playing too loud in the background.

“Kurt?” The sounds faded, indicating that Blaine was looking for a more secluded spot. “Is everything all right?”

Kurt cleared his throat. "Everything's good. I put Tracy to bed and thought I'd say hello to you. Is it a bad moment?"

He imagined Blaine shaking his head, laughing to himself. “No, absolutely not. Rachel and Jesse invited me to a birthday party for a friend of hers from back during _Funny Girl._ They are all drunk on champagne, and they’ve started dancing. Rachel has had too much to drink. I’ve never seen her so crazy.”

Both laughed.

"Did she still try to kiss you?"

“No, thank goodness,” replied Blaine. “Luckily Jesse’s here to keep her at bay. They sang an incredible duet, from _Spring Awakening_.”

Kurt managed to imagine the scene.

Rachel loved to play Wendla, the sweet, innocent 14-year-old from _Spring Awakening –_ the girl with morbid sexual curiosity. She enjoyed the drama a little too much, and she liked to express intense, contrasting emotions. Her strong point had always been her voice, but she clearly enjoyed the acting as well.

"I hope you recorded everything."

Blaine laughed heartily, perhaps a little tipsy himself. “Obviously. You know me. I’ll send you the video tomorrow.” After a few seconds' pause, Blaine spoke again. “How's Tracy doing? I’m really excited about the Thanksgiving performance.”

"You know her – she loves being on stage. She gets it from you,” Kurt replied. “Are you free early tomorrow? Tracy learned a poem and really wants you to hear it. She wanted to call you tonight, but I wasn't sure you would answer, so I convinced her to be patient."

Blaine was interrupted by Rachel's voice, asking him where he had gone. “Yes, in a moment,” he answered her in a low voice. “I have to go. They’re getting ready to cut the cake, and I want to be in the photo. Call me tomorrow as soon as Tracy wakes up. I can't wait to hear her.”

Kurt sighed and hoped Blaine was lucid enough not to forget about it later. "Perfect," he concluded. "Write it down somewhere, and say hi to Rachel."

“Will do. Talk to you tomorrow, Kurt.” Blaine hurriedly replied, before ending the call without Kurt having had a chance to say goodbye.

In moments of sadness, his subconscious forced him to mull over his loneliness, to dwell on melancholy thoughts regarding needs, such as waking up and falling asleep next to someone, or sharing joy and sadness with another human being. Well, an adult human being.

It was not a matter of a physical or sexual desire, but of the lack of a profound connection, on a mental level, and mostly about giving and receiving love, platonic or otherwise.

Blaine had been the man with whom he had shared emotional intimacy with, not limited to the sexual act, and therefore those shortcomings inevitably made him think about him. It wasn't romance, but simple affection.

Kurt missed Blaine's friendship because with no one else, before or after him, had he reached the same level of connectedness. If Blaine hadn't been in Los Angeles, Kurt would have invited him to spend the evening with him. They could watch old movies and discuss their lives, while eating high-calorie sweets with a few experimental drinks, such as lime Coke. He hoped Blaine's schedule would include a few more days off after Tracy's play, because he would love to spend a day or two with him, like in the old days. Their friendship was so much more healthy and equal than their relationship or marriage ever had been, and he was really glad about that.

He got out of bed and put his cell phone on the bedside table. He rushed to the kitchen, seized by a sudden desire for a cup of hot milk. As he waited he saw, like a flash, the events of that day.

Breakfast time with Tracy, before accompanying her to kindergarten. The paperwork and the notebook where he had written his suggestions for the trends for the next spring-summer season. Lunch with Maddie, recently returned from Paris. And David.

"David," he whispered. He grabbed his wallet and took out the _Sea Pearl_ business card.

Written in pen, fairly neatly, Kurt read " _Dave K."_ and a row of numbers.

His phone number.

"I need to call him," he said to himself, looking at his watch.

It was almost eleven o'clock, and phoning David at that late hour after a random meeting and not being part of each other's lives for ten years, seemed highly inappropriate. He slipped the business card between those of his other contacts and his favorite places to eat, promising himself that he would call him the next day when the noise of the milk beginning to boil grabbed his attention, pushing the thought out of his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks a lot to Elle Delajoie for her massive and amazing work as beta for this chapter <3


	3. Chapter 3

Once the window was wide open, the not-so-fresh air was replaced by the cooler one of the autumn breeze, and the last rays of the low sun created pleasant plays of light with the shade of a tree with yellow leaves. On the pale-colored wall, they looked like small animals chasing each other, letting themselves be carried away by the wind.

Dave placed a second empty box at the foot of the queen-size bed and put his arms on his hips. He thought it was finally time to fill them. He wore a plain T-shirt and a pair of crumpled jeans that were suitable for heavy work.

Suddenly, staring at the cardboard boxes Rob had given him, the real weight of what he was about to do made his heart feel like it was stuck in his throat.

He was about to put six years of his life in an empty box, as if they had no value.

Yet every memory that lurked within those walls inundated him, and there was no point in pretending that it was a lie or shrugging it off as a passing sensation.

In that apartment resided the shadows of his past - those daily moments that had made his life special and the echo of his voice joining with the more melodic one of Jefferson, on which, however, Dave preferred not to dwell.

It was all there, as if it were painted on the walls.

He sat down on the floor and gathered his face in his hands. The low-volume TV mingled with the sound of an alarm from a nearby car, and Dave sobbed in what had once been his home. It hurt as if a hand were clutching his heart, leaving only a mass of torn, bleeding flesh. He had been back from Lima for less than a week, and the backpack full of his clothes, which he had left at the entrance, sorrowfully reminded him that this place where he had once been happy was now more similar to a prison. 

Dave had tried, night after night, to fall asleep on the bed that he had chosen, bought, and loved years before, but was seized by a feeling of constriction, which often turned into real panic attacks. After the first sleepless night, he had rented a room in a nearby hotel where he had managed to recover a few hours of sleep. 

His gaze rested on a bear-shaped ceramic money box and on the miniature tooth of a Megalodon. He thought it was these objects, framed photos, and souvenirs bought around Europe that tormented him, and that if he got rid of them everything would return to normal. With a sigh, he finally realized that it was an illusion.

These items carried an undeniable weight, it was true, but every wall of that apartment also seemed cursed. Frightening, in its total simplicity.

He felt a sharp pang in the stomach when he remembered Jefferson coming out of the bathroom, his hair still wet and a towel tight at the waist, while Dave was waiting for him on the bed, reading a book or playing on his cellphone. They exchanged nods, looks, smiles. They stretched out side by side. They sometimes talked until late into the night or simply snuggled together in a comfortable silence with the beating of their hearts close to each other.

Photographs of them together decorated the walls, showing the many moments they shared - a fishing day, Diego's wedding, the barbecue party that his father had organized to introduce him to his new girlfriend, an Orthodox church in Athens.

They were the pieces of a large puzzle whose drawing represented his life, the man he had become.

Throwing them away or sealing them up seemed like an act of self-harm, and Dave wasn't ready.

Maybe he would never be ready.

He put on a jacket and went out onto the balcony. The sun was setting, giving way to the romantic hues of the sunset. It was the time of day when customers flocked to the _Sea Pearl_ \- families, couples looking for a little intimacy, young people meeting up for drinks at the bar or eating tons of the prawn tartare snacks that Diego was so proud of.

The night before, Dave had worked late, immersing himself in the job he had missed so much when he was back in Lima. It was his first full evening working with Marco, who would replace Suzanne during her maternity leave. He was a meticulous young man, gifted with a rational mind and took direction well from the reports he had gotten from Suzanne. Dave had given him detailed directions and instructions, which he executed flawlessly, and the evening had been a resounding success.

At closing time, he was exhausted, but once he was home lying in bed, he found himself panicking, in a state of fear similar to the one he felt when he was a toddler and his mom turned off the lights of his bedroom, leaving him in complete darkness. The silence became deafening, cold sweat streaked his forehead, his hands trembled. He had found some peace only in the cheap hotel room where he had taken refuge, but sleep had not come until the first light of dawn.

Dave felt so tired, as if his legs were barely holding him up.

"I have to do it," he thought, with resolution. He went back inside, inhaling deeply.

He opened the closet door and grabbed a handful of clothes, throwing them into the nearest cardboard box. He felt irritation, as if the fabric were burning to the touch. He then went on to clean off the bedside table. He grabbed and threw a photograph and a handful of small crystal statues that represented the twelve signs of the zodiac into another box. One of them, the lion, slipped from his hands and shattered on the floor.

He saw Jefferson's sun-kissed hair again, his green eyes, and those pastel-colored sweaters he loved to keep resting on his shoulders for which Dave sometimes teased him. Jeff’s passion for those pretty, slightly retro knick-knacks led them on quests in flea markets and antique shops. Finding them made Jeff giddy. Dave never understood their charm, but he loved them simply because they were part of Jeff, and when he was away, Dave only had to hold one in his hands to feel the sensation of having him close.

He thought that in picking up the pieces of that crystal lion, his heart would crumble in the same way, so he simply stood, staring at those transparent shards as if they were sprinkled with poison.

"No - I can't," he said, his voice shaking. He paced back and forth, feeling another panic attack approaching. After his suicide attempt as a teenager, he had to deal with the emotional side of himself, which often got carried away by negativity and despair. He inhaled and exhaled, as his therapist had taught him years ago.

He left the bedroom and walked into the kitchen where he promptly turned on the light. Jefferson had bought containers for pasta, rice, and coffee. Dave had to turn around because just looking at them made his stomach feel empty, as if he were falling.

Jefferson was present in every part of the apartment, from the wallpaper to the various ethnic cookbooks that populated the shelves.

Dave felt as if he were being hunted.

He grabbed the backpack with his clothes, and rummaged through it in a state of intense agitation. He pulled out the black notebook Suzanne had given him. He looked through it, repeating the words aloud. “Sunday, nine o'clock. Company dinner for thirty-seven people." He felt a certain sense of calm, as if the anxiety were dissipating. “Saturday, eight o'clock. Mr. Huang. Check your emails. Call Mrs Pierce-Lopez."

Dave closed the agenda. "I have to call Brittany," he said to himself.

He typed her name into his phone, but then shook his head, worried that she would read between the lines and know from his voice that something was going very, very wrong.

Dave had learned to love her like a sister and calling her would mean inviting her into his tunnel of depression. He closed his eyes and pictured her smiling or pouting face and her long blonde hair tickling his face every time she hugged him. Brittany could be cute even when she got angry, just like a little girl.

Once, when they were still living in Lima, she had written him a long letter using crayons, accompanied by a portrait of him sporting an unlikely rainbow-coloured hairstyle. Brittany had drawn it in a child-like style and struggled to color inside the lines, but from those clumsily written words and that cheerful drawing, Dave had seen her good heart and her innate kindness. He had thanked her by buying her a life-size, make-it-yourself cat. In two afternoons, he had created a completely pink stuffed feline with a large fabric horn he had added on its forehead. He had called it "Cathorn", but Brittany had preferred "Meowshmallow". She still kept it in her bedroom and had posted a picture of it on her Instagram account.

In the past, their relationship was one of mutual cordiality between a cheerleader and a football player. They had never talked much, and Dave had changed schools for his senior year, leaving McKinley and that dark time behind him.

He had maintained contact with Santana, who had been his beard for a few months, but it was always sporadic conversations and a few phone calls lasting just a few minutes.

Brittany had always been a part of Santana's life, as a best friend or a romantic interest, so Dave was used to hearing about her. In his eyes, Back then, Brittany was just Santana's girlfriend and nothing more, a naive blonde with a lot of creativity. Their friendship developed years later when he started dating Blaine. Brittany was Blaine’s friend, and Dave had become part of their interactions. She gave him the confidence to sing and dance with her, and they often ended up talking late into the night. He had learned to love Brittany's weirdness, to share her sense of humor, and to understand her through her expressive eyes without the need for words. It was Dave who asked her to decorate the flat he would later share with Blaine, and he laughed with her at how tacky it was once he was single again.

Dave found comfort in the thought of Brittany’s presence, and pictured her next to him. “Now or never”, he told himself.

He scrolled through his cellphone contacts until he was confronted with Jefferson's name. He didn't know if that number was still active, or if he would answer.

The first night after their separation, Dave had called him incessantly, but the constant ringing always ended in the annoying and cruel voice of the automated voicemail recording. Over the next few days, Jefferson had kept his cellphone off, and after a while Dave had just stopped trying. When he came back to New York, Dave hoped that Jefferson had returned to their flat while he had been gone to collect his belongings, but the flat was untouched. Dave was pretty sure Jefferson had gone to Philadelphia, where his family lived.

He knew he would regret it when he initiated the call, but he couldn't find any alternate choices.

Jefferson's stuff had to be removed, or he'd lose his sanity.

It would be short and impersonal. He wouldn't let Jefferson know how affected he still was. He just needed to clear the apartment for the ghost of their relationship to fade forever.

The phone rang three times, and when Dave pulled the phone away from his ear, ready to hang up and write a text, he was caught off guard by a female voice on the other end of the line as it rang the fourth time.

“Dave?”

He felt a tremor down his back, and he was paralyzed, the hand holding the cellphone still in midair.

He looked around in panic. "E-Emily?" Her name seemed to burn his tongue, like a forbidden word, a curse.

Dave had met her at Jeff's parents' house, during the first months they were dating. On his advice, they pretended to be just friends, and kept their distance all evening. Emily was a simple girl, who was easy to make friends with. He'd guessed she had a crush on Jeff, but it seemed harmless, even cute.

"I'm sorry. I was looking for Jeff, but I can call another time." He thought about begging her to let him hang up. Calling was a bad idea, and if he could, Dave would have hit his head against the wall.

Emily was quick to answer. “No, I'm glad you called. Jeff should be back any minute. He forgot his phone at home, as usual.” 

Dave felt his breath catch, as if a large object were blocking his throat. "No, really," he said, his voice reduced to a shrill plea. "It's nothing important, I can call back."

“Dave,” she cut him off. “I don't know what happened between you two, but I hope you can make things right.”

A rush of anger builds inside Dave, leaving him speechless. He felt a pain in his chest, and the respect he still felt for Jefferson, the man he believed to be the love of his life, turned into outrage and disappointment.

Emily knew nothing about them. In her mind, Dave and Jeff were just two friends in the middle of a fight.

It would have been almost funny if their relationship hadn't lasted six years.

Jefferson had destroyed every little intimate moment they shared, every kiss, every touch, every time they cried in each other's arms. That betrayal hurt even more than when he found out Jeff was spending his evenings with Emily, as her boyfriend. Dave had felt resentment for Emily, but he knew by now that she was just another innocent victim of a pathological liar.

He hated Jefferson, and he hated himself because he was still in love with him.

Emily, ignoring that moment of silence, continued. “I have news for you,” she said excitedly. “Jeff and I are pregnant.”

Emily kept talking, but Dave wasn't listening to her anymore. His mind froze and his body shook. He felt a wave of nausea, and goosebumps covered him from head to toe.

A child. Emily and Jefferson were having a baby.

“Jeff is back, Dave. I’ll see you soon, hopefully.”

Before he knew it, he heard Jefferson's voice. “Who is it?”

Dave prayed to wake up from the nightmare. He realized how much he had missed that voice, but at the same time he felt like he was dying inside.

“It’s Dave. I’ve returned from Lima. I'd appreciate it if you’d come and clear out the flat. I work the evening shift every day, so come at a time when I'm not here. You know where the keys are." He said it all in one breath, feeling the first tear roll down his cheek. 

Jefferson murmured in agreement. "All right, I will. How are you?"

This time, Dave disconnected the call and threw his cellphone on the floor in anger. "Liar," he whispered, wiping away his tears. "You disgusting liar."

It would have been easy, if he could just stop loving him once and for all. Leave it all behind him, as if it meant nothing. He felt like tossing Jefferson's shit into those boxes, sealing them with packing tape, and delivering them to him with a card decorated with a middle finger.

Dave kicked the sofa, the blue fabric that Jefferson loved so much, but his anger quickly evaporated and turned into frustration. Nothing he could do would change things, not even setting the apartment on fire. It was a feeling of helplessness that was destroying him psychologically.

He held onto the back of the sofa, sobbing. He'd only seen Emily once, but it wasn't hard to picture her with a baby in her arms, with Jeff behind her, smiling happily. Together they formed the much-envied perfect family Jeff wanted. Dave himself had been an unwitting accomplice in keeping Jeff’s mask in place around his family.

His mind was invaded with dark thoughts, by images that he rarely thought about by now, but which never failed to appear in his nightmares.

His figure reflected in a mirror, his eyes streaked with tears as he looped his tie around his neck. The hateful messages that followed one another on his Facebook page, the moment when he looked around, and he nostalgic seeing the airplane models he had built as a child, which had been his last thoughts before getting on a chair and throwing himself into the void, with a belt around his neck.

Dave woke up in the hospital with his father's hand clutched to his and the knowledge that he had survived. He was happy to be alive.

He came back to the present and saw his cellphone abandoned on the floor, still intact, and a thought flashed through his head.

Kurt. Nine unanswered calls. His silent cry for help.

Dave had sought Kurt's help in that moment of dark despair, as if one word from him could bring a shred of hope into his life.

If he called right now, he was pretty sure Kurt would answer him.

They had both changed, grown up.

Dave could have pretended that everything was okay, he could put on a smile and redirect his thoughts by immersing himself in a conversation with the person he had loved as a teen. It would have been simple, the perfect ending to that terrible fairy tale.

He took a step, driven by curiosity and desire. He swallowed, absently listening to a female voice detailing the weather forecast for the coming days.

It wouldn't take much to really do it, and Dave could almost see himself in the near future in a bakery seated across from Kurt, sipping a coffee, perhaps accompanied by a piece of cake.

He smiled for a moment at that image of blurred shades, similar to a daydream.

He reached for his cellphone when the vibration caused him to jump. He prayed with all his might for it not to be Jefferson. When he grabbed the phone, he was reassured by Diego's name on the display. He cleared his throat, and accepted the call. "Hello?”

Diego had a cheerful and very calm voice. “Hi, D. I'm about to leave for the _Mystic Lion_. Do you remember? Suzanne's party?”

Dave nodded, touching his forehead. He was surprised by the timing of that call. “Yes, I almost forgot. Hug her for me. I already told her I wouldn't be able to make it."

“Are you sure?” Diego asked. “I can just come and get you.”

Hearing those words, Dave looked around. He saw a wooden plate, with ceramic shells and fish around the outer edge. In the center, the inscription read "Jeff & Dave".

They bought it from a nice gentleman who had a gift shop in Sicily.

He had to get out of there before it was too late. He was going to go crazy.

"You know what? I'll be ready in ten minutes.”

**

In the car, Dave closed himself off in complete silence, absently looking out the window.

“I'm glad you decided to come, Dave. Suzanne will be happy."

He shrugged, continuing to stare at the shops they drove past.

Diego sighed and turned up the volume on the radio.

They arrived about fifteen minutes later. They pulled into the parking garage and found a spot relatively quickly. 

Dave unfastened his seat belt. They headed toward the parking garage exit. The temperature was considerably lower than it had been earlier in the day, and the air was filled with a pleasant scent of rain. Dave felt a few drops wet his hair, and he regretted not bringing an umbrella with him. He wrapped his scarf around his neck.

"Try to not be sad, okay?" Diego told him, with a pat on the shoulder and a sad smile. "We're here to have a nice evening."

Dave nodded with little conviction. "I know, you are right. I'm not ready to talk about it yet, but thank you. I know I can count on you."

"Always," Diego asserted. 

They walked close to each other down the sidewalk. A group of boys and girls was gathered near a black Audi and were chattering in a rather annoying and loud way. Dave ignored them.

Diego shook his head. "It seems impossible that I was once that young." 

Dave let out a small, almost distracted laugh.

Down the street, they saw the entrance of _Mystic Lion_ , headed by two golden stone sphinxes. The neon sign changed color from orange to red. "It seems like ages since we’ve been here" Diego said, wiping his shoes on a pyramid-shaped rug. The rain had grown heavier, and they both took shelter under the club's awning. "Last time it was on Rob's 25th birthday."

They both laughed, remembering that Robert had written a love letter to the waitress that night, calling her his Cleopatra. Jefferson was so drunk that he tried to create a car-like construction using nachos.

Dave shuddered, and his expression darkened. Diego noticed it and bit his lip.

Not far away, they recognized Suzanne's curly hair and Rob, who was walking just behind her. He seemed to be trying to engage her in an argument, but she just ignored him, her hands in her jacket pockets. 

Diego waved at them, and Suzanne quickened her pace. 

"Dave!" she exclaimed, when she was close enough to focus on his figure. She hugged him, kissing his cheek. "I'm really glad you decided to come."

"I couldn't leave you alone with Rob," Dave joked and smacked Robert's arm.

"The usual funny guy, Karofsky."

Diego laughed, and Suzanne glared at Rob. “I will never, ever let you convince me to get inside your car. I'm sure it's illegal to drive at that speed." She took her phone out of her bag and pressed the touch screen with quick gestures. "I just told my husband to come and get me later."

"You're already turning into a boring housewife," Rob concluded with a shrug. 

Suzanne rolled her dark eyes. "Dave, can we fire him? Pretty please?" 

Robert thanked her with a raised middle finger.

"I swear you look like brother and sister," Diego interjected, with a knowing look at Dave.

"Oh," he replied. "So I'm not the only one who noticed it."

“My brother is twenty-nine, and he studied electrical engineering at Yale. No, thanks,” Suzanne asserted sarcastically. 

They were interrupted by the vibration of her cellphone. 

"My husband agreed to get off the couch and pick me up for around midnight. Also James texted saying he is late. He won't be here for another fifteen minutes."

“Okay,” Rob said, warming his hands in breath. "We can take a seat and wait for the newbie inside the club."

“Behave yourself,” Diego warned him. 

Rob put a hand to his heart and feigned an expression of surprise and disdain. "Me? Misbehave? What are you talking about?"

Suzanne ignored him and was the first to enter the bar, followed by Diego and Dave.

The interior was an explosion of blues and reds, with hieroglyphs carved into stone columns. Dave recognized a hawk and the eye of Horus. The tables were quite secluded, separated from each other by dense vegetation. A glass-covered stream was built into the floor where lotus flowers floated with forests of poppies and jasmine and beautiful fish swam. The Sphinxes sprouted out of the green, and on each table was a candle in the identical shape. The atmosphere was very intriguing, with exotic music sung in Arabic and soft lights that gave the impression of being outdoors in an ancient Egyptian forest at nightfall.

Suzanne had chosen this place because of its unique atmosphere and unusual snacks, such as honey nachos. The music played at a moderate volume, and it was not difficult to have a normal conversation without having to speak too loudly. Dave had stopped going to clubs, but he liked the place. It wasn't the classic club used to pick up someone, like the usual places that Robert loved.

Jefferson preferred more chic bars, fancy wine tasting, or restaurants, but Dave liked that touch of eccentricity offered by _Mystic Lion._

"The girls' uniforms still look the same. How nice," Rob whispered in Dave's ear, winking at one of them who was carrying a large tray with two cocktails and a slice of pizza. All the girls wore a long white tunic, gold-plated bracelets, and delicate snake-shaped crowns. The guys’ uniforms were more eccentric, consisting of long-maned hats and red silk robes.

One of the girls came to meet them, and greeted them by pressing her hands together, as if she were praying. Her makeup consisted of blue eye-shadow and crimson lipstick.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, I'm Sarah. How may I help you?"

Suzanne stepped forward. "We have a reservation. Suzanne Morgan, five people."

Sarah did a quick check using a notepad, and invited them to follow her. "Welcome to _Mystic Lion_."

They sat down at a stone table, on chairs decorated with lions and purple and blue spirals. Rob positioned himself between Diego and Dave, leaving Suzanne at the head of the table.

The waitress brought them berries and dried fruit in small ceramic pyramids, and Rob didn't miss an opportunity to thank her, using a sly smile. They ordered nachos, a ginger beer for Diego, and two whiskeys for Rob and Dave. Suzanne chose a carrot and grapefruit juice.

They talked about work. Diego explained his new idea for a dish of tuna and citrus, with a splash of mint to make it unique. Rob showed them a photograph of a brunette girl he had met at his parents' anniversary party, drawing their attention to her lovely brown eyes and mentioning her amazing British accent. They had only spoken once, but their texts contained a significant amount of heart and kiss emojis.

Everyone agreed that the time had come for him to settle down once and for all.

Dave was silent, studying his reflection in the glass he was holding. He took a few sips, but his stomach felt tight. 

"You should eat something, D," Diego said.

Dave grabbed a handful of nachos and stuffed them in his mouth and chewed before taking a long sip of whiskey to wash it all down. He felt a burning sensation in his throat, and a slight dizziness.

Rob called the waitress. "Another glass for my friend." He shrugs when Dave looks at him doubtfully. "You seem to need it."

Suzanne stopped him with one hand. “I don't want to see vomit tonight. I feel nauseous from practically everything. Even air."

They were interrupted by James, with his hair tied in a ponytail and a leather jacket in his hands. "Sorry, I'm late," he said, with a reserved smile. He was holding the hand of a girl a few years older, with blue eyes and a long magenta braid that fell over her shoulder. She wore a pair of round eyeglasses and a sleeveless vest over a light-colored shirt.

"Jessica?" Suzanne exclaimed with surprise. "I didn't know you were coming!"

Dave nodded at her, and she ran to hug him. "James told me I probably wouldn't see you tonight, Dave, but I'm glad he was wrong."

Two years prior, Jess had worked at _Sea Pearl_ , but then decided to start studying again and quit around the same time Dave had left for Lima. When Diego had sent him James' curriculum via email, he had confided to him that James had started dating Jessica and that she had vouched for him.

“I missed you, Suzie. I missed you all, even Rob,” Jess said, raising her eyebrow. “And I couldn't let James drive alone at night. He gets lost so easily." 

Rob pretended to wipe away a tear, while James's fair skin took on a rosy color.

"Come here," Suzanne said, hugging her. "I'm really happy to see you." She then turned to Robert, who was smoothing his blond hair with his hand. "Rob, bring another chair" 

He rolled his eyes, but got up looking for a waiter. "Yes, my lady."

Jessica pointed to Suzanne's stomach. “James told me you’re going to name her Naja. It's a beautiful name." She placed a hand on Suzanne’s belly and felt a slight movement. 

Both women smiled, exchanging stories regarding the pregnancy. 

Jessica then turned to the others. “Diego, it's lovely to see you. How is your daughter?"

Diego took a sip of beer. “Lucìa is growing too fast. Gloria's parents help us a lot. We bought a new house near the bay."

Rob returned with a chair, and Jessica sat down next to James. She kissed his cheek, and ruffled his hair. They ordered cherry shots, while James, still too young for alcohol, opted for a lime drink.

Taking a look at her friends, Suzanne stood up with a glass in her hand, now half empty. "I want to thank you all for coming," she began. “When Dave hired me at _Sea Pearl_ , I was a girl with a lot of hope and little experience. I had worked in my parents' restaurant in Seattle, but I still didn't know anyone in New York."

Diego already seemed on the verge of being moved to tears, and Rob pinched his cheek before putting his arm around Diego’s shoulders.

“Dave not only gave me a job, he also gave me a family. We have no blood ties, but I wouldn't trade you for anyone in the world." Suzanne invited the others to get up, and propose a toast “To friendship, and to choices that change the course of lives.” She smiled fondly at them. “I thought I was only going to be in New York for a few months, but I was lucky enough to run into all of you. Two years ago, I met my husband in this same city, and he became the love of my life. Now, I couldn't be happier. I hope that one day Naja will be able to meet a group of people as wonderful as you are.”

Eyes shining, Suzanne finished her toast. She smoothed her dress and sat back down. In the three years they had been friends, Dave had never seen her cry.

Robert started to speak up, but Jessica admonished him. "Please, don't ruin this perfect moment with your bullshit." 

Diego and James laughed, but both were clearly moved.

“I want to toast to Marco,” Rob said, raising his glass to the sky. “The one who will work his ass off during Suzanne's leave. To you, my friend." 

Everyone burst out laughing and took a drink.

"Don't scare him off. He's a good guy," Suzanne chuckled.

Diego promised to take him under his wing.

They talked a little bit about work again, and Jessica confessed that Marco had asked her out before she met James. “It was nice. He left me his phone number and a flower. I felt like I was back in elementary school." 

James kissed her hand tenderly, intertwining his fingers with hers.

"Do you ever think about it?" Rob exclaimed, looking at the young couple. “Jessie and James. With two names like that, I'm sure this is a love story that is destined to last." 

Dave laughed out loud. "This joke will never get old," he declared, raising his glass for a mini toast. 

Suzanne rubbed her temples. "I wish I was drunk right now."

Rob spoke up again, but was promptly interrupted by James, who seemed rather used to their banter. 

"No, Rob," he said, before the other asked. "We haven't adopted a cat named Meowth yet." 

Dave tried to contain another laugh, and took another sip.

Jessica nodded. “I'm allergic to cats, so I won't give you that satisfaction. Although I would like to do it just to tag you on Facebook and enjoy your reaction."

Rob finished his drink, followed by Dave. 

“Maybe the allergy is just an excuse. Maybe you're just busy trying to catch Pikachu,” Rob suggested.

"Are you even serious?" Jessica asked, but noticed that James was giggling too. She slapped him affectionately on the arm. "Don't laugh."

Dave and Rob exchanged the sign of victory.

Diego, who was sipping his beer and stuffing himself with nachos, exchanged a bewildered look between Rob and Dave. “I don't understand how you remember certain things. How many Pokemon are there in total? I just remember that Pikachu is the yellow rat."

Everyone burst out laughing, even Suzanne. "I swear. Sometimes it's like I work in a kindergarten."

Dave threw back his first shot. He felt a faint sense of euphoria, and he took off his jacket, realizing that his hands were sweaty. "Pikachu is not a rat," he said, pointing his index finger at Diego. "It's an electric mouse."

Diego shrugged. "A rat is always a rat."

Jessica tried to distract them. “We should let the children have fun while we behave like adults. What do you plan to do next year, Suzie? " 

Diego took some peanuts, and munched them noisily. “I hope you found something interesting, Suzanne” he said, “When Gloria was pregnant, she took a class to learn to make perfect cupcakes. I've never eaten so many of them in my life. "

“I was thinking of something different,” Suzanne replied. “I've always wanted to study law. Maybe I'll finally be able to read more."

Dave took his second shot. This time he had to support his head with his hand. He could feel the music entering his veins, as if his entire body were vibrating. He saw a blond man from behind, laughing with a friend, and for a moment, he looked like Jefferson. He thought about reaching out and touching him.

James and Jessica ordered pizza. Diego chose a veggie burger.

"My childhood dream was to be a vet," James said, proudly showing off a photograph of a black and white rabbit. "She lives at my parents' house. Her name is Patty, and she'll be five next month." 

The table exploded into coos and sweet noises.

"You are so sweet and cute James, I don't understand how you can be with someone like Jess," Rob joked in a mocking voice. 

Jessica threw a peanut at him, and everyone laughed.

Diego showed them a photograph of Maya, his seven-year-old female German shepherd, and Suzanne told them she would rather have a goldfish or a bird, instead of a more challenging pet.

Dave was listening to their voices, but they seemed distant to him, like they existed in a parallel universe. Rob ordered more shots, this time green in color and accompanied by lemon wedges. Dave was the first to grab one and drink it all in one go. He remembered Jefferson's laugh and by straining his ear, he thought he heard it again. He imagined closing his eyes and resting his head on Jeff's shoulder. He still remembered the aroma of his aftershave, the feel of Jeff’s kisses on his neck.

He would have given anything just to see him again.

While his friends were talking, Dave was able to drink three more shots without attracting any attention. The last one tasted like good butterscotch, and he laughed at the sudden memory of that box of chocolates he'd given Kurt for Valentine's Day, wearing a gorilla costume. He couldn't believe he had actually done it.

When he told Jeff, they'd laughed about it for weeks.

Over the years, his romantic gestures had become less overt, while remaining sweet. Jefferson loved to come home and find little gifts or small handwritten notes from Dave. Once he had filled the bedroom with rose petals, like he had seen in romantic movies.

It would have been great if he hadn't spent hours cleaning everything the next morning.

Jefferson often jokingly told him that he deserved better than himself, but Dave kissed him over and over until he admitted that he was wrong.

They were made for each other. It was one of the few certainties in his life.

Dave lost track of time until he saw Suzanne's husband arrive, wearing a scarf, gloves, and a wool cap. He woke up from his torpor, and he took the opportunity to indulge in another drink.

Adam, married to Suzanne for a year, was a tall man with very black skin, and short hair. He was one of the kindest men Dave had ever met. 

"You’re early," she told him, surprised.

“I left early. Your text scared me." He exchanged a friendly handshake with Rob, who greeted him with a raised eyebrow. 

“Your wife was too impressed with my driving. She knew that if she got into the car with me again there would be a risk of falling in love with me." 

They all laughed as Suzanne rolled her eyes. 

"I'd rather become a nun."

Adam introduced himself to Jessica and James and exchanged a few words with Diego.

He offered his outstretched hand to Dave, and noticed his loose grip and his blank gaze. Adam saw that Dave was covered in sweat. "Looks like you've already had too much, Dave."

He was right. He was so right.

Trying to stand up, Dave noticed that the whole room was spinning. "It’s been a nice evening so far," he said, trying to focus attention on Adam's face.

"Well," he continued, with a pat on the shoulder. "Try not to overdo it."

Everyone exchanged glances, realizing that the shots on the table had definitely disappeared, and none of them were drunk enough to hold themselves responsible.

"How much did he drink?" Suzanne asked.

Diego tried to count how many empty glasses there were on the table, and how many had been drunk by someone other than David. He concluded that his friend had downed three glasses of whiskey and seven shots.

Everyone felt guilty for not having noticed.

Soon after, Suzanne put on her jacket and said her goodbyes to everyone. The relaxed atmosphere seemed to have dissipated, giving way to a feeling of general anxiety. 

"Let me know how he feels, please" she said then, turning to Diego but looking at Dave. He nodded before she left the club.

"Can you eat something, Dave?" Diego offered him a slice of pizza, but Dave waved it away. 

"Nah. I don't want to." 

Robert forced Dave to look into his eyes, grabbing him by the chin. "How many fingers do you see, dude?" he said, holding up three and waving them in front of him. 

Dave laughed heartily. "There are seven, I'm not that drunk."

"Fuck," Jessica exclaimed. "You were the one who ordered all that shit Robert, how did you not notice he was drinking it all?"

Before Rob replied, James calmed them both down with a wave of his hand. "I'm going to ask for water." He stood up, but stood still as he watched Dave’s eyes fill with tears as he reached out to caress Rob's face with a streak of tenderness too intimate for a friend.

"You're a bastard, Jefferson, but I miss you so much," he whispered, his hazel eyes lost in Robert's gray ones. 

Nobody moved a muscle, and Diego turned pale.

Robert gasped, feeling Dave's lips on his own. 

Jessica covered her mouth with her palm, and Diego, who was usually a very polite person, let out a surprise curse. James looked confused, as if a piece of the puzzle were missing.


	4. Chapter 4

Robert pushed Dave away gently, breaking the kiss. He shook his friend's shoulders with a mixture of panic and surprise in his voice. “Do you recognize me, Dave? I'm Robert. Your annoying best friend?"

Dave looked around, meeting Diego's and Jessica's shocked gazes and James's curious one. He then turned to focus on Rob again. His strong features, his gray eyes, and his hair, a lighter blond than Jefferson's.

“I - I'm sorry, Rob. Jefferson... I miss him." Tears rolled down his cheeks, and his lips quivered. 

Robert stroked his shoulder. “It's okay, man. I told you about the time I made out with Alex, right? The college guy who was obsessed with  _ Avatar _ . You are much cuter." He let out a forced laugh, which immediately died between his lips.

Diego squeezed Dave's hand from across the table. "It's okay, D. Nothing serious happened."

Dave continued to apologize through tears, supported by both of his friends. “I miss him. I miss Jeff,” he sobbed, trying to regain his ability to speak.

"I'm confused," James said, trying to make sense of what had happened right in front of his eyes. "Who’s Jefferson?"

Jessica bit her lip and hit him on the arm with a light slap. "Wrong question."

James looked around, and Diego gritted his teeth, as if he had swallowed something bitter.

Dave gasped. 

Jessica offered him a handkerchief. "You don't have to talk about him if you don't want to," she reassured him. 

Dave blew his nose and nodded.

"She's right, Dave," Rob consoled him with a hand on his knee. “We don't have to talk about him. We can get distracted, and you can have a glass of water. You can also kiss me again if it makes you feel better, okay?"

Diego threw his head back. "Madre de Dios."

Dave was sure there were two Roberts in front of him, and one of them had three eyes. He struggled to understand the meaning of their words, as if their voices had mingled with the foreign language of the background music. Beside him, he imagined Jefferson, his face resting on Dave’s chest, their conspiratory smiles, the promise to spend life together, and perhaps to have a baby.

He also remembered Emily, confiding on the phone that she was pregnant.

“He wanted to be straight. Jefferson just wanted to be straight,” Dave mumbles, wiping his tears. “I understood that because it had been difficult for me too. I agreed to pretend that I was just his best friend, and I didn't care that his family told me we were just a phase, that Jefferson would get tired of me soon, that we would burn in hell."

Robert clenched his fists, cursing those people with his thoughts. "I didn't know they told you this bullshit."

One of Rob’s mothers was Catholic, the other Jewish. He grew up in a relaxed environment, far from the prejudices that permeated religious fundamentalism. He had been taught respect, tolerance, and forgiveness. He was in elementary school the first time a child had told him that he and his family were going to hell. He had felt confused and angry, as if someone had slapped him in the face for no reason. Growing up, he had often faced the cruelty of people, but he never stopped fighting for what was right. Dave's story was giving him goosebumps.

“I didn't care what they thought. I knew Jefferson and I loved each other, and the rest was just bullshit. I even went to church with him because I knew it was important to him. I would have done everything to make him feel good. God, we talked about starting a family together."

Diego looked down, staring at his shoes. “I always thought that only you wanted it, Dave. I've never liked him, and I've told you so several times. Do you remember when we had a fight because I pointed out that he always kept his distance from you in public?"

Jessica broke into the conversation using a restrained tone of voice, as if she were measuring words. “I didn't like him either. He always acted entitled."

Dave started feeling bad. His face turned red. After blowing his nose with the handkerchief offered by Jess, he rolled it up and threw it towards Diego, who luckily managed to dodge. He shook his head, hurt by the words, as if they were an attack on his person, and not on the man who cheated on him.

He just wanted to pretend nothing of that was true.

Still, he could no longer ignore Jefferson's vague answers in response to his attempts to formalize their union, or to adopt a child. Jeff looked upon families made up of a man and a woman with envy because they had what he could never get, which was acceptance from society and his own family. He preferred to avoid the company of other gay men, so he spent his evenings with the religious friends of his family in a no-win situation of feeling out of place, but yet accepted in his feigned companionship with them. He knew that their camaraderie was a complete sham, but the draw of being accepted was strong enough for him to return over and over.

For Jefferson, being homosexual was a mistake of nature, a condition he hated. He never uttered explicit hate phrases, but many of his attitudes, when viewed with impartiality, showed marked internalized homophobia.

He was affectionate and loving when he and Dave were alone, but in public he tried to keep Dave in the role of best friend, rather than boyfriend, even though their close friends knew.

"I was with him for six years," Dave said, for lack of other arguments. “The best six years of my life."

Diego shrugged, and rolled his eyes. “Sorry, Dave, but right now I don't feel like thanking him. He cheated on you, and if there's one thing I can't stand it's cheaters."

Diego was right. Jefferson had cheated on him. He confessed to him that he had been thinking about marrying Emily, all the while Dave had been attributing his diminishing interest in physical intimacy to exhaustion and monotony. Jeff had justified his behavior by blaming his parents and their Christian values. He stated that he felt that it was time he found a woman to marry.

He would never admit that the cheating happened because he wanted a relationship that would be approved by society and his parents. He wanted to try out whether he could live the lie before committing to it.

Dave had forgiven him, begged him to stay, insulted him, and then kissed him, saying that he loved him again and again. He had never felt so hurt and humiliated.

He hated Jeff's family, and he hated Emily. Hatred was easier, more natural, the spontaneous reaction in response to such a great loss.

Soon after, he had packed his bags for Lima, abandoning everything and throwing himself into his father's arms like a child.

"It sounds crazy," Dave said, breathing hard and shaking hands. "It is crazy, but in his head he was finally returning to normal. He had to find a woman sooner or later." He laughed sarcastically, with a bitter taste in his mouth. “He didn't tell her anything about us. And now she is pregnant."

There was a moment of silence, Dave's sobs accompanying the general embarrassment.

"Are you kidding me?" Jessica exclaimed.

Diego was wide-eyed, his mouth wide open. "Jefferson's wife is pregnant?" he asked again, although he had heard perfectly well. He couldn't imagine how a man, or at least someone who liked to call himself such, could hurt two people he claimed to love in that way. Dave, with whom he had spent six years of his life, and Emily. Diego had never met her, but he was feeling intense compassion for the woman. The very thought of hurting Gloria or cheating on her gave him the chills. He was not exaggerating in saying that he would rather die.

Robert barely held back a long list of curse words.

"No kidding. I called him to ask him to clean the flat out, and she answered. She told me that she wasn't sure why we had argued, and that she is expecting a baby."

Dave's sobs got louder, and Rob had to hold him still.

Jessica sipped some of James' soda, whispering a "bastard" that was heard by all present.

"You're right," Dave said. “He's a bastard, but I love him. I love him so much..." He wiped his face with his arm, wetting his sleeve with tears.

James stepped closer to him. He only knew Dave from the stories of his coworkers, but he firmly believed in the power of human contact and moral support. He was still very young and inexperienced as far as life was concerned. At school, he was teased because he blushed too much and spoke too little. Dave's pain was far from his everyday life, but he figured a friendly gesture was more important than anything else right now.

He put his hand on Dave's shoulder, and tried to convey all his support to him. “I'm so sorry that you had to go through all of that. We don't know each other very well, but I'm here for you.”

He had Dave's arms around his neck before he finished talking, and he could feel his tears wet his skin. He returned the squeeze, a little embarrassed, looking for his girlfriend and his coworkers.

"Thank you. Thank you. Thanks,” Dave said, over and over.

Diego turned to Robert. "I’m going to call Gloria and have her get the guest room ready." He took his phone out of the pocket of his denim jacket. 

Robert stopped him. “Don't worry, I'll take him home. Can you tell everyone I won't be at work tomorrow? I want to help Dave get rid of Jefferson's shit."

Diego nodded.

Jessica gave him a thumbs up. "If you need help, call us."

**

With the help of Diego, Robert got Dave into a taxi. The driver, with a strong Indian accent, looked at them out of the corner of his eye. "Busy evening?"

Rob heaved a sigh as Dave tried to curl up in a fetal position on the seat. "You can only imagine."

Jessica and James said goodbye and walked hand in hand to the parking garage. 

Diego approached Rob sympathetically. “If anything happens, and I mean anything, call me, please. I don't care what time it is. I’ll drive right over to help."

“I have your number,  Fernàndez. You'll be the first to know if Dave throws up on my shoes."

They said goodbye, and Robert moved Dave's legs to make room to sit next to him. He gave the driver the address and closed his eyes, lost in the noise of the traffic. He had a mild migraine which started from the neck and went up to the temples. He hoped his friend had a good painkiller at his flat.

**

As hard as it was, Rob managed to persuade Dave to get out of the cab. His murmurs of dissent made him look like a spoiled child, and Rob had to use an authoritative tone with him to get him to get up. He helped him support himself using his body as a foothold and together they made it to the elevator.

Dave was having a hard time keeping his eyes open, and without Robert's help he wouldn't be able to stand up. Fortunately, he seemed to have stopped crying and had entered a silent catatonic state. Rob didn't know if that was good or bad.

At the door of the elevator opened, Rob asked Dave where he kept his keys and struggled to understand his disjointed muttering, more similar to grunts than a human language.

"When you get better, you better offer me dinner," he mumbled, turning the key in the lock with Dave clinging to his neck like a monkey.

He turned on the hall lights, feeling the wall for the other switches. "I have to throw up," Dave whispered.

Robert panicked. “Okay man, hold on for a few minutes. We are almost there." 

They walked the short distance from the kitchen to the living room, and Rob opened the bathroom door using his elbow. Luckily he had often been to his friend's house, and he knew where everything was.

"Here we are." He raised the toilet bowl and held Dave's head up. He heard unmistakable sounds, and an acrid smell permeated the room. “It's okay, I'm here,” he said, stroking David's short hair. 

The other collapsed on the toilet as if it was a pillow and began to doze. With a tired sigh, Robert flushed the toilet and put Dave's arm back on his shoulder. 

"Let's get you to bed, okay?"

Reluctantly, Dave got to his feet. His eyes struggled to stay open and his legs seemed to be made of clay. He was sure their footsteps on the floor were making more noise than they should, as if he and Rob had suddenly turned into two elephants.

"We’re here." Robert helped David to lie down on the bed and within seconds he heard the other begin to snore loudly. "At least I won't have to sing you a lullaby," he said with a shrug.

He took off Dave's shoes and placed them carefully at the foot of the bed. He did the same to his scarf and unzipped Dave's jacket. Rob thought of undressing him, but preferred not to have to wake him up and figured that sleeping in his clothes didn't matter much after such an evening. He was going to have to take a shower the next morning, anyway.

He noticed the open cardboard boxes in which there were a handful of shirts, a clock, and a few ties. Approaching, he saw the shattered pieces of what appeared to be a broken crystal statue, laying on the dusty floor. He recognized the decapitated head of a lion, which looked somewhat creepy. The closet doors were wide open and so were the drawers, as if someone had been rummaging through them in a hurry. The bed, unlike the rest of the room, was perfectly tidy, as if no one had slept in it for months.

Robert felt a sense of frustration and compassion for Dave. "If you were less stubborn, you would have asked me for help." He tried to shrug off the guilt, feeling bad for not forcing his own presence after Dave told him he wanted to be on his own. "You won't get rid of me that easily anymore," he said, hands on hips.

Patiently, he wiped up the fragments of the figurine off the floor and checked with his phone's flashlight that the surface was safe. He threw it all into an empty garbage bag he had seen in the kitchen earlier. In the sink, there was a coffee cup and a dirty plate, which seemed the only proof that Dave had really gone through a semblance of normality in that flat after his return from Lima.

Rob lay down on the sofa after washing his face and hands. In the bathroom, he found a bottle of pain relievers and he took two. He was feeling exhausted and decided to take a nap. He sent a text to Diego, confirming that Dave was asleep and they were both safe and sound. He got a fast reply which reminded him that Diego would keep the ringer on, and to contact him in case of problems.

Robert rubbed his temples and closed his eyes. He fell asleep within minutes, oblivious to the sound of Dave's snoring and lulled by the notes of a song he had heard that morning that he couldn't get out of his head.

**

Dave rolled over in bed, covering his ears with the pillow. It felt like a whole Spanish soap opera was taking place in his head. He wondered if he had gone mad, or if someone was really watching TV at such a loud volume that the house was vibrating.

"Enough ... Jesus ..." He finally decided to open his eyes, but that simple gesture caused a sharp pain in his head and the feeling of having to vomit. It took him a few minutes to realize that the bed wasn't really moving, that the voices were actually coming from the living room, and that he wasn't hallucinating. The sunlight pouring in from the window finally convinced him to sit up. He massaged his stomach, overcome by a general queasiness and an urgent desire to go to the bathroom. Rising to his feet, he had to hold onto the wall, and it seemed to him that the whole room was spinning. He recognized his apartment's bed and let out a sarcastic comment. "At least I know where I slept." Memories of the night before after he had started to drink were vague, clouded by a feeling of sadness and the memory of missing Jefferson to death.

After flushing the toilet and washing his hands, Dave joined Robert in the kitchen. He was cooking eggs with the TV playing in the background. Dave absent-mindedly noticed the commercial for the new talk show hosted by Peter Harris, who would allegedly be interviewing a famous actress about her impending divorce. She could be seen making a face, and the audience, made up almost exclusively of women, burst into laughter. Dave rolled his eyes, despite occasionally indulging himself in some junk TV.

Rob was wearing the same clothes as the night before, but the top three buttons of his shirt were undone, leaving his collarbone uncovered. He was a little rumpled with his hair sticking out in a few places. Dave didn't remember coming home with him, or how he ever managed to go to bed. Rob noticed Dave and greeted him with spatula in his hand. "Good morning, Princess. Did you sleep well?" His attitude changed when he noticed Dave's too pale complexion and his posture similar to that of a zombie. “How do you feel? I'm making some eggs and coffee."

Dave threw up his hands in surrender, as if he'd been caught smoking by his father. "If you don't turn that TV off right now, I'll have to kick you out of here. Have mercy." 

A Latina woman was yelling at her shirtless gardener to stop jeopardizing her relationship with her husband. It was trashy.

Robert was quick to follow his instructions, and both were greeted by a comforting silence interrupted only by the chatter of the upstairs neighbor, who seemed to be pacing back and forth while talking on the phone.

“I should kick your ass just for how much you drank last night, but right now I can't be mad at you." Rob took two plates from the cabinet, and placed them on the table. "Sit down.”

"Thanks," Dave replied. “Not just for the eggs, but for everything. Did I really kiss you last night, or was it just a bad dream?" He made a face, his eyes still too sensitive to the light.

“That was the best part of the night,” Robert said with a wry smile. "You left everyone speechless.” 

Dave grumbled. "I would like to dig myself a hole right now." He wrinkled his nose when Robert presented him an omelet and a few slices of ham.

He brought a forkful to his mouth and chewed with little conviction. "I'm too sick to eat." He tried it a second time and was finally able to swallow without having the desire to run to the bathroom and throw up. He hadn't had a hangover since college and had forgotten how excruciating it could be.

"Drink some coffee, at least." Robert offered him a steaming cup.

Dave took a sip. It was warm, and he was glad that he didn't have to chew it. Each movement was accompanied by a sensation of physical pain and exhaustion, like with a bad case of the flu.

"Can I be honest, David?" Rob said, using his full name and a serious expression he reserved only for the most important moments. 

He nodded, somewhat nervously. He poured himself some more coffee, and this time he added a spoonful of sugar.

“You look awful. You need a shower, and that unkempt beard ages you at least ten years. I love you, and I can't bear to see you like this."

Instinctively, Dave touched his chin and began to scratch the coarse hair he managed to grow on his face. He knew he smelled bad, and he really needed to brush his teeth. He had tried to look his best for his return to the restaurant, but the lack of sleep and the nervous breakdown caused by the Jefferson stuff had pushed aside all his rules regarding hygiene and personal care. The clothes he had worn the night before had not ironed before he put them on, and at that moment, he really needed a shower. Rob was right.

"I'm... I'm sorry," he said, looking down. "I'm doing everything wrong, aren’t I?"

“I'm not a relationship expert, Dave, but it's been nine months. I miss my best friend."

Dave drank the whole cup of coffee and wiped his face with a napkin. 

"I took a day off to help you clean up, so I'm going to roll up my sleeves and fill those boxes while you take a shower and try to distract yourself."

Dave thanked him with a grateful nod. "I don't know what I would do without you, even if sometimes I would like to put a sock in your mouth." 

They both laughed, but Dave was immediately hit with a stab in the head. 

He snorted and rubbed his forehead. “I feel like I have a pneumatic hammer drilling through my skull,” he said, with an annoyed murmur.

Both men’s attention shifted to the door when they heard the sound of the lock being unlocked. 

Rob stood up, looking bewildered. "Are you expecting visitors?"

Dave got paler and his eyes widened, as if a ghost appeared in front of him. "Shit. Fuck, no," he mumbled, his voice choked and his throat seemingly as dry as a whole desert. He looked around bewildered, perhaps looking for a hole in which to hide. Unfortunately, he was too old to find refuge in the most obvious places, such as under the table or inside a closet.

Rob looked at him dazed, trying to connect that reaction to the moderate footsteps he could hear coming from the hall. He left the kitchen and saw the backside of a man with sandy-blonde hair.

He muttered a curse as his gaze met the other's green eyes and his thick, almost transparent eyebrows. He had an angular face, thin lips, and faint wrinkles on his forehead. His hair was short, held in place by a splash of gel. He wore a pair of khaki trousers, a dark green V-necked sweater, and a white button-up with a dark green pattern underneath.

"Jefferson?" Robert tried to mask his surprise, and he very much hoped the man hadn't come to see Dave. He crossed his arms, imagining that his friend would like a few more minutes to prepare to face his ex.

Unlike Dave, Jefferson looked very good. Rob was sure he had filled out a little. His clothes still had that strong scent of cologne that Rob remembered well, which quickly filled the room. 

Jefferson looked embarrassed, like a surprise birthday party prepared for the wrong day. "Robert," he said, using that complacent tone that had always bothered Rob a little. "It's nice to see you. I didn't expect to find you here." He cleared his throat, and put the key on the shelf above the heater beside the door.

"Let's just say we're both surprised," Robert replied, using a tone tinged with sarcasm. He then remembered that the night before Dave had mentioned calling Jefferson to clean out the flat before learning about Emily’s pregnancy. He sighed, praying to a God he didn't really believe in to make that visit as short as possible. "Did you come to get your things?"

Jefferson nodded, avoiding his gaze. He was a few years younger, but he exuded an aura of professionalism and charisma, like the minister of a church or the leader of a creepy religious group. He was one of those people who always smiled, and whose true thoughts were hard to understand. Robert had never been completely comfortable with him, although he had loved to see Dave happy and in a stable relationship. He didn't mind inviting Jefferson to their group outings, but he would have found it uncomfortable to be alone with him for too long.

“Dave called me yesterday, and since I was around I thought I'd drop by. I didn't expect anyone to be here."

“I'll help you, okay? I brought Dave some boxes from the restaurant. They're in the bedroom," Robert suggested, placing himself between Jefferson and the kitchen although he knew that he would not be able to avoid the meeting between the two since the living room and kitchen consisted of one large room, without a wall or door to divide them.

"That would be a great help. Thanks, Rob." Jefferson walked over to him, and Rob stepped aside, his arms still crossed and his eyes looking down.

Dave's eyes were closed, and he was trying to breathe normally. He recognized Jeff's voice and the sound of his footsteps. He covered his face with his hand, as if there was a chance he could become invisible that way. Part of him was dying to see Jeff again, even though it was the worst idea ever conceived. He regretted how hideous he looked and his body odor, both of which were causing the same level of embarrassment that he would feel if he were naked in front of a crowd of people. 

Jefferson loved all kinds of face products, and he never failed to spritiz himself with cologne before going out. He was the kind of man who rarely had even a hair out of place. Dave was less meticulous, thanks to his love of sports and being outdoors, but he had learned to take care of himself over the years, not obsessively but surely enough not to look scruffy. If Jefferson were to see him at that moment, he would know just how bad he was feeling and how much he was still suffering from their breakup.

Their eyes met for a brief moment and a plea died in Dave's mouth, leaving him breathless. The idea of touching Jeff flashed through his mind, filling with a desire that distance could not satisfy. It could have been just a handshake, or a pat on the shoulder.

He felt his eyes wet with tears, his heart breaking.

"I thought you were at work" Jefferson declared, peering over Rob's shoulder, who seemed to want to block his view.

"I wasn't feeling well," Dave mumbled and looked away, unable to keep up the eye contact. He brought a bite of the omelet to his mouth, his eyes focused on the embroidered sections of the tablecloth.

Robert put a hand behind Jefferson's back. "The boxes are in the bedroom," he reiterated.

Jefferson let himself be guided, despite having lived in the apartment for years. Dave allowed himself a sigh in relief when he heard the two men fumbling in the adjacent room. He hoped that once cleared, the apartment would be habitable again, but an overly emotional part of him just wanted to grab Jefferson's leg like a baby and beg him not to leave.

**

Robert was standing behind Jefferson, as the man inspected the contents of the two boxes on the floor. He grabbed a shirt and looked at it. "I already took a lot of my clothes when I left, and I don't wear as much of this type of stuff anymore."

Rob shrugged. "Dave would prefer you to take it all. To start over, or something like that."

Jefferson nodded, with a streak of sadness painted in his green eyes. He took a statue depicting two fish in his hands and looked at it like a stamp collector searching for some flaw. "We bought twelve of these when we were in Milan." He placed it with the others on the bottom of the box with a sigh.

"I'm sorry man, but the lion is gone," replied Robert with mock displeasure, then pointing to the drawers and closet. "Now tell me, how much of this is yours?"

**

Jeff and Rob went back into the living room and went through the kitchen again.

Side by side, they could pass for two brothers. They were both blond and of similar height, but Rob sported a lighter skin tone and a more trained body than Jefferson, who had always been slender, but without any muscles. Between the two, Robert looked younger, with a rounder face and more youthful appearance, more like a teenager than Jeff, with his natural charismatic maturity.

Dave took another look at Jefferson. He wanted to say something, ask him if he was finally happy. Even some sarcastic joke about his relationship with Emily and his fake heterosexuality would be good, possibly satisfying. Maybe he could even try to be kind to him, but the lump in his throat didn't allow him to say a word.

Jefferson's face was covered by a large box full of folded clothes, which he held higher than necesary, perhaps to avoid another awkward encounter with Dave. Robert followed him close behind with the second box, still partially empty, in which Dave could see the blue frame of the photograph of the two of them during a visit to an aquarium with their thumbs up near the shark tank. Dave assumed that in that photo they could be mistaken for two friends, while in others, which Jeff surely preferred to leave at the flat, their proximity might arouse some suspicion. He couldn't help but roll his eyes, despite the headache.

Rob looked at him with a bored grimace. Dave was sure that he was helping Jefferson just to rid the flat of his presence as quickly as possible. Inwardly, he thanked him.

They put the boxes down on the sofa, and Jefferson turned his face to Dave. He licked his lips, as if he, too, wanted to say something but couldn't find the courage, or the words. 

Rob snapped his fingers and that moment between the two was abruptly interrupted. "Is there anything else you’ve left behind?"

"Cookbooks," Jefferson muttered, pointing to one of the living room shelves. 

Rob took them one by one and placed them in a neat pile in the box, moving the photograph to the side. 

Jefferson grabbed a dried starfish, and a model of a sailboat. "I'll take these," he said, taking another look. 

Dave focused his attention on Jeff’s hands and closed his eyes. He could still feel them on his body. He needed to stop. In his mind, he saw Jefferson turning the pages of a book, or touching his chin when he thought too much or had to choose what to cook.

“Oh, and this,” Jefferson said, melting into a nostalgic smile. He took a glass ball, one of those that filled with snowflakes, if turned upside down. Inside, two children were building a snowman while Santa Claus, not far away, passed with his sleigh full of gift boxes. "I've always liked it."

Dave bit his lip as Jefferson glanced up at him, this time filled with emotion that looked very much like repentance.

He wondered if he'd let Emily snuggle up to his chest before he slept, and sing old songs to her like he did for him. He wondered if they would open presents together on Christmas Eve, under a Christmas tree. If he had ever dedicated love poems to her.

Both shivered and looked away for the umpteenth time. Jefferson had a change of attitude and began grabbing random objects, stacking them in the cardboard box. Dave didn't care what he took with him, too tired and torn inside.

“I think that's all. There aren't many things I need,” Jefferson concluded. He then finally turned to Dave. "I left almost all the photos, you can decide whether to keep them or throw them away."

Dave replied with an inelegant sound, similar to a grunt, and tried to detect a streak of regret in Jeff’s voice, but he found only detachment. He didn't know if it was just pretense and Jefferson was just masking his true feelings, like he always did. He realized that it didn't matter.

“Good,” Rob said. "I'll help you get everything in the car."

Once they were gone, Dave allowed himself to cry.

**

Jefferson took his car keys out of his pocket and turned off the alarm. He opened the trunk and let Robert be the first to drop the box in it. In their haste, they had left them open. Rob saw some cans of paint still sealed. Jefferson followed Rob's gaze and smiled, a little embarrassed. “Emily and I are thinking of painting the baby's bedroom yellow. It is a neutral color. We still don't know if it will be a boy or a girl."

Rob nodded, his expression unconvinced. “I heard she's pregnant. Congratulations." He supposed it was fair to say it in such a circumstance, although his wish was less heartfelt than he had intended.

He wondered if his wife would ever know of Jefferson's passion for dicks.

He licked his lips, pushing away the desire to send her an anonymous message with that photo with Jefferson and Dave holding a pink dildo that he himself had given to the couple on the occasion of their third anniversary. He still kept the photo in one of the folders on his laptop.

“Thank you,” Jefferson replied. "It was nice to see you again."

They exchanged a few more words, but their conversation became awkward within minutes. Jefferson hastily said goodbye to him, and Robert watched him drive away until he was sure he had turned the corner. He finally heaved a sigh of relief and shook his head, rolling his eyes.

"Asshole."

**

When Rob returned to the apartment, he was struck by the instinct to barricade the door, as if he were afraid of other unexpected surprises, but he dismissed that thought knowing that the chances of Jefferson ever coming back were quite slim.

Dave rubbed his forehead, the headache heightened by his umpteenth crying fit. He realized that Jefferson's smile, which he once considered loving and comforting, had lost its benevolent mask, revealing its self-righteous and false nature.

He couldn't believe he had been so blind.

He cursed the day he met him. He closed his eyes and revisited past moments. He could faintly hear the sound of Jeff fumbling in the kitchen, his brisk pacing from the sink to the stove, with a background Youtube video explaining the recipe he was trying to replicate. Usually, Dave would help him by prepping all the ingredients on the table, or with simple actions like heating the oven or buttering a pan. They often interrupted their preparations to exchange a kiss or a little cuddle, and sometimes Dave would tickle him, only to hear him growl fondly.

The knowledge that he had been happy with Jefferson was the most painful part of that separation. It seemed to him that part of his body had been severed, leaving him weak, mutilated, licking his still bleeding wounds.

In the thick fog of his tears, Dave didn't see Rob, but he felt his arms tightly around him, and he let himself be carried away by the emotional fragility of that moment, clinging to his shirt. 

“It's okay Dave, he's gone. Everything is alright."

It took him a few minutes to calm down. Dave drank two glasses of water and lay down on the sofa. Robert massaged his feet, explaining how that type of therapy had beneficial effects on anxiety and stress. One of his moms worked as a physiotherapist. Rob had learned a few tricks from her to use on himself after the hours of training he went through in high school and college, when he held the position of quarterback on both school’s football teams. 

Dave groaned in agreement, and allowed his body to relax. At times like this, he was really happy that Rob was so comfortable with his sexuality. He was a person who loved physical contact, and hugs and caresses didn't scare him, even with other men. He loved to call himself a lover of male camaraderie with a pinch of extra sensitivity.

"You should get some sleep," Robert said, moving his toes in a circular pattern and applying moderate pressure to the bottoms of his feet. “I can take the shit that Jefferson left to my garage. You can decide what to do with it in the future ."

Dave shook his head. "No, that's not enough." He looked up at the low, oppressive, eggshell colored ceiling. He didn't know if it was a hangover symptom, but he was sure there was a chance it could collapse at any moment, burying his body in the rubble. “I can't stay here. I’ve tried, but I can't. These last few days I’ve slept in a hotel because this flat gave me the creeps."

He couldn't imagine waking up in that same bed without Jefferson.

"I already knew. The bed was perfectly made, and I saw the backpack with the clothes at the entryway." He took a few seconds to think. "You should move." 

Rob gave him a solemn look, and Dave's eyes widened.

He felt a sense of panic imagining strangers living in the same space he had shared with Jeff, but for the first time, he thought there really might be a light at the end of the tunnel. He couldn't believe he hadn't thought about it on his own.

Dave nodded. "I should have done that from the start. I feel stupid."

Rob let out a laugh. “Better late than never. Nobody can help you feel good if you are not the first one to want it."

They looked into each other's eyes, and Dave allowed himself to laugh despite the throbbing pain in his face muscles and temples. 

"You should work as a life coach." He sat up, and placed a hand on Rob's knee. "Thank you. Someday, I hope I can return the favor and do something for you."

"I will consider myself rewarded when I see you getting better." He winked at him.

Dave decided to get some more sleep and take a shower when he woke up.

**

The warm water massaging his skin had a relaxing effect, and Dave allowed himself more time in the shower to rub the soap over his body and wash himself off carefully than he usually would. His headache had also subsided and moving his joints seemed easier. 

He had slept a few hours, and when he woke up he found out that Robert had kept his promise and had cleared the apartment of his and Jefferson's photographs, leaving the bare wall, strewn with white outlines and shadows where they had once hung. He hoped that the small change would make the weeks between him and the impending move more bearable, but Dave didn't really believe that it would, and mentally braced himself for more long nights at the hotel. Perhaps he should look for another one, not too far away but with more comfortable mattresses and the possibility of having breakfast in bed.

He wasn't well, but he was convinced it would eventually get better.

He got out of the shower and pulled a towel around his waist. He scrolled through the names of the songs on one of the playlists he had on his phone and avoided any sad, or even vaguely romantic ones. He opted for Michael Jackson's “Man in the Mirror”. He hummed the song in a low voice, looking at his image in the mirror. He had very obvious dark circles under his eyes and a dull complexion. He thought about starting by brushing his teeth, shaving, and using a splash of cologne.

He decided to call Suzanne and apologize for ruining her party. He promised himself to do so before it was too late. Rob would stop by to drop off some milk, eggs, and fresh fish. Dave wanted to be presentable enough to cook with him.

He applied the shaving cream, then ran the razor over his skin with gentle movements. He washed his face again when he finished.

He then stared at his hairless face, running his hand over his chin. He found that his appearance was much improved and no longer looked neglected. He was almost excited because he finally felt like he had enough resolve to confront the pain that he had been hiding from, as if he realized at that moment that the end of his relationship had also created a new beginning of the rest of his life.

Jefferson was part of him, maybe he would be for a long time, but Dave also had himself. He especially had himself.

During those months, it had been very difficult to look forward to the future, while lacking the strength necessary to perform even the most ordinary actions, such as getting out of bed. Yet he knew he possessed that strength. He always did.

He turned off the music and searched for Brittany's name on his contact list. This time he pressed the call button without too many second thoughts. He wanted to hear her voice.

She answered almost immediately. “Davey!” 

He couldn't hold back a laugh at the sound of the nickname she always used. He also had the urge to run and hug her. “Hi, Britt. I got back to the city a few days ago. How are you?"

He knew she was pouting, but he didn't care right now. 

“I thought you hadn't called me because you had been eaten by one of the Lima cows. The brown ones have a very short temper. Santana says hi to you and says she'll make you pay for not letting us know you were back. But don't worry, I know how to calm her down. I'd like to say Tubby missed you too, but you know what he's like. He only cares about food and the sofa, so I'm not sure if he noticed you were missing.” She took a few moments to breathe, then asked in a lower voice. “Are you less sad now?”

Dave laughed heartily and figured that on his next visit he'd stop by Santana’s favorite bakery and take one of her favorite lemon cakes and some pink cupcakes with bunny ears, which Brittany loved so much. “A little less sad, yes. I’m getting better. Don't worry. "

“Well,” she replied. “Santana wanted me to call another catering service, but I had a feeling you'd be back, so I didn't. Do you know that if you say something three times there is more chance that it will come true? To be sure, I said it every night at least ten times. I really wanted you back.”

"It worked," Dave told her in a more tender and affectionate tone of voice. “I think I dreamed of us doing push-ups in a treehouse. I was afraid of falling. Maybe you convinced me like that, threatening me." 

They both laughed. He heard Santana shove the cat off the couch using very unfriendly names.

“I dreamed about you too. We were climbing a mountain but couldn't make it to the top because it was full of gummy bears. So we started eating them, but there were too many.”

Dave laughed again, and this time he knew it was true. He was better, and, at least in that moment, he was able to relax.

“I swear, Britt, your dreams are works of art,” he said, surprised by his raucous laughter. “Count on me for the opening party. I can't wait to see you. Can I send you the menu proposals by email?”

They talked for a few more minutes, and she told him she wanted fancy cotton candy sweets. Dave promised her that he would talk to Diego about it, but that he was sure it could be done. He made some notes in Suzanne's notebook. 

When he ended the call with Brittany, he breathed a sigh of relief. He decided to get some fresh air and wait for Rob on the balcony.


	5. Chapter 5

The clock struck ten o'clock, and Kurt was in the middle of a somewhat tedious phone conversation with a Japanese photographer who spoke barely understandable English. He tapped his finger on the desk, ready to say something he would regret. He had to bite his tongue when the man on the other end asked him to repeat it all again.

Kurt considered himself patient enough, but that phone call was taking away the precious time he could use to have a coffee break, and it didn't seem to lead to anything final.

Maddie's face appeared around the half-open door of his office, and Kurt pointed to the phone, motioning her not to make noise with his index finger on his lips.

“I understand, Sakai-san. What do you say? I already sent you the offer this morning. I'm waiting for confirmation. Con-fir-mation."

Kurt threw a murderous look at Madeleine, and she replied with the unkind gesture of choking herself.

“Perfect, I'm glad we understood each other. Confirmation, okay?" Kurt tried to laugh, but was disgusted by how fake it sounded. "Thanks. I hope to hear from you soon."

When the conversation ended, he let out an exhausted sight and was overwhelmed by the urgent desire to lie down somewhere and sleep.

"I think I was on the phone with him for at least forty minutes," Kurt snorted, looking at the time. "Forty minutes saying the same, exact thing."

Madeleine sat down on Kurt's desk and crossed her legs. She wore a pleated skirt that fell just above the knees, and a fairly lightweight black sweater with a ribbon tied around the neck. Her long hair was held in place by a headband decorated with little pearls.

Maddie always had that easy-going, slightly mischievous young girl look, like the cheerleader or the mean girl in a teen movie. Kurt was sure that if they had met years ago they would hardly have liked each other, but by now he knew enough to see through the appearance and appreciate the person underneath all that makeup and the designer clothes. Madeleine was a selfless young woman who liked to read manga, and in her spare time she delighted in writing romantic stories. She had an idealistic soul and believed in destiny and true love. Although her appearance seemed sophisticated and unapproachable, she was a person with whom it was very easy to make friends, and Kurt felt very at ease hanging out with her in his free time.

“I think you need a piece of cake,” she said, blinking. She hated eating alone and knew Kurt would hardly deny her a chat.

Madeleine inspected her bright yellow nails. "I saw that there is one with cream and strawberries in the cafeteria."

" Lead the way, " Kurt replied, mentally making a note of watering the cactus that decorated his desk, alongside a photograph of Tracy. He glanced at the image of his daughter smiling in a straw hat and a polka dot swimsuit at the edge of a swimming pool, and his mood changed for the better.

**

The cafeteria of  _ Vogue _ was quite crowded at that time of the day, and Maddie asked Kurt to grab them seats while she went to wash her hands. They decided on a fairly secluded table, far away enough from the chatter of coworkers who loved to use that half-hour for gossip and tales of high society evenings.

The entrance was very elegant, lit by large antique chandeliers with an elaborate style made of black leaf curlicues that held the lamps, making them resemble flowers. The tables were accompanied by sofas covered in velvet, and in the background there was a large window that overlooked the urban panorama of New York, made up of skyscrapers that seemed to never end.

Kurt took his seat, replying to some of Blaine's texts while he was still waiting for Maddie to return.

Kurt read them with annoyance. He watched part of a video sent to him after Blaine's last night concert in Chicago, where his ex-husband could be seen hugging a group of young fans and signing autographs for them. In the background, Kurt recognized Rachel's voice, exchanging a few words with a man from the crew. There was a moment of laughter when one of the little girls asked Blaine to marry her.

It had been a week since Blaine's last phone call.

Blaine had promised to carve out a two-day gap between gigs last weekend, but the night before their family reunion, Kurt had received the news from him of a sudden photoshoot for a magazine, accompanied by a long message of apology. Kurt hadn't hidden his resentment about Blaine's suddenly too-busy schedule, and his responses had grown colder. He knew Blaine cared about Tracy, and he was sure he wanted to spend time with her, but at the same time he hated that Blaine wasn't consistent in his visits and phone calls. Their meeting had been postponed until the upcoming weekend, which had caused Tracy to spend days pouting, throwing tantrums about going to kindergarten, and finishing her food. Blaine had tried to calm Kurt's anger by informing him of all his commitments, but Kurt still hadn't been able to completely forgive him.

"You seem lost in thought." Maddie took the opposite seat and called a waiter by snapping her fingers. It was an annoying habit that Kurt still struggled to avoid.

"Tracy’s sad because my ex-husband thought that a photoshoot was more important than seeing her," Kurt complained, rolling his eyes. "We are in the phase where he overloads me with texts about his abundant and extremely important commitments and I barely speak to him."

They ordered two pieces of cake with cream and strawberries, accompanied by a fruit juice for Maddie and a cappuccino for Kurt.

"You know," she said. “I'm not sure I'll ever want to be a mother. It seems too complicated."

They were interrupted by Isabelle Wright. Her long dark blonde hair was tied in a chignon and she wore a white silk sweater paired with a wide tulle skirt. Kurt was sure she would look elegant even in pajamas.

"Can I sit next to you?" she asked, sporting an affable smile painted on her lips. She had blue eyes rimmed with eyeliner and tinged with light purple shadows. Madeleine and Kurt stood up, a little excited by Isabelle's sudden appearance.

Kurt had spent his childhood reading about her, and after years of working for her, he still felt that emotion and awe of those who find themselves in front of someone they really admire.

Something about Isabelle reminded him of his mother - perhaps the calm tone of her voice, her modesty, and that delicate way of moving, as if she were floating on air.

Madeleine moved to make space for Isabelle. “I'm trying to escape the new intern. She's adorable, but after a few hours I just need a break.” She laughed slightly, covering her mouth with a hand.

Isabelle ordered a hot chocolate, and it was brought to her within minutes.

“I just remembered. You’re going to Brittany Pierce-Lopez’s launch party,” Isabelle said, turning to Kurt. “I’d be interested in your impressions. Maybe you could write something up by Tuesday?"

Kurt nodded. "Of course." Isabelle touched his hand briefly, before letting out a murmur of assent to the good taste of the chocolate.

"I can always count on you," she said.

They talked about Brittany, and Kurt told them old stories about her strange habits, the YouTube channel that kept her busy in high school, and that terrible cheese fondue. The Britney Spears week at the Glee Club, and the time he and Brittany spent a whole week dating each other.

Isabelle was totally intrigued.

“It seems impossible that all these successful people grew up in Lima, Ohio, and graduated from the same high school. I think most of my old classmates ended up working in some office, or at a gas station,” Maddie said with excitement.

"I know about Rachel Berry and your ex-husband," Isabelle interjected, her eyes on Kurt. "Do I need to know more, after the surprise of the lead designer of the IDA winning team graduating from the same school as you?"

Maddie held up her index finger. "Oh, there's Quinn Fabray." She sighed and put her hand to her chest. “I think you've heard of her, Isabelle. She opened an art gallery in DC, but started out as a blogger. She has always been a role model for me."

Isabelle looked at her doubtfully. "Isn't she the same Quinn Fabray that is famous for her Amazon rainforest photos?"

Kurt took the last sip of cappuccino. "Yes. She gave a speech last year about deforestation. She is very committed to social issues."

"Not only is she beautiful," said Maddie, lost in a dreamy look. “She's also bright, determined, and just plain awesome. I wouldn't be where I am now, if I hadn't come across her blog years ago."

"Maddie's crush aside, I have to admit Quinn has come a long way," Kurt concluded, enjoying a frosted strawberry.

“It's not a crush, Kurt. Quinn is perfect. I'm in love with her."

Kurt shook his head, and Isabelle let out an affectionate laugh.

Kurt had discovered Quinn's blog from Madeleine, despite hearing rumors about his old high school friend through Rachel, who had kept in touch with her.

Quinn and Puck had broken up a few months after living together, and she had discovered a passion for writing and photography. From Rachel's stories, Kurt knew that Quinn had spent a year in Brazil, surveying the place with her camera. She was noticed a year later, thanks to a snapshot of a native child asleep on the paw of a jaguar. Maddie knew details that even Kurt and Rachel weren't aware of, like Quinn's favorite brand of clothes and her coming out as bisexual.

“This makes me think of how many young talents are hiding in small towns like Lima,” Isabelle said, with a touch of sadness.

Kurt weighed those words, thinking back to the day when they attended the Nationals in New York with the Glee Club, and together with Rachel they had breakfast at Tiffany’s imagining their future on Broadway. He thought about his failed audition for NYADA and his subsequent interview for  _ Vogue _ . About his days as an intern under the wing of Isabelle, who had been like a godmother for him.

The long path made him who he was today.

Maddie tried to draw attention back to Quinn and asked Kurt if he still had any pictures of her in her cheerleader uniform.

"I didn't tell you, Maddie," Kurt confessed. "But Quinn will be there tonight. At Brittany's party."

He regretted those words when Madeleine let out a hysterical scream, which caused a couple of people to turn in their direction. "Are. You. Kidding. Me?"

Kurt raised an eyebrow, and Madeleine widened her eyes. "You have to introduce her to me. You have to, Kurt."

**

The _Marriott_ was a four-star hotel in the very center of New York City, not far from City Hall. The building, dated 1876, consisted of six floors, one of which was entirely dedicated to a fairly famous Gothic-style cafe. The conference room could hold 2,500 people and had a separate entrance from the one leading to the reception.

Dave arrived around noon, wearing comfortable clothes, and he was relieved to find that his employees were doing a good job setting up the tables. He exchanged a few words with Cindy, the receptionist, with whom he had spoken on the phone a few days earlier. She was a middle-aged woman of Korean descent, very petite with bobbed hair.

Dave's eyes met Marco's, who was talking to two younger coworkers. The long refreshment table was already set up, and Dave nodded at Marco.

The hall was spacious, and the floor resembled a Baroque-styled mosaic. The stage where Brittany would speak was already equipped with a microphone stand and two big screens in the background.

Dave really hoped the evening would be a success. He sent a short message to Santana with a few photos taken from different angles.

Dave cuffed the sleeves of his lightweight sweater and walked over to Marco. He felt quite rested after he had a six hours of uninterrupted sleep the night before. He had given up hope of sleeping in the apartment where he had lived with Jefferson and had rented a room in a hotel with good reviews. The mattress had been incredibly soft. In the meantime, Dave had contacted  a real estate agency  recommended by Rob and was waiting for them to call him back. He wasn't a very picky person, although he was hoping for an extra bedroom in anticipation of a visit from his family.

"How's everything going?" Dave asked Marco, who seemed to have taken his role as head manager very seriously. He was only twenty-three, but had worked part time as a waiter at  _ Sea Pearl _ since it opened. He studied graphic design and often devoted himself to freelance jobs in his spare time. Everybody liked him.

“Everything is going as it should. We have most of it done. Diego told me you would be one of the guests.”

Marco seemed visibly relieved by Dave's appearance and showed him the notes he had written down the week before, after a meeting with Brittany. Dave took a quick look and nodded.

“I came earlier to help out. Mrs. Pierce-Lopez is a very dear friend of mine, and I really want to make a good impression."

They set up tables and placed two silver-plated fountains for white and dark chocolate, as Brittany wanted. They talked a little about Suzanne, and how her pregnancy was progressing. Dave told him about being born in Lima. Marco was of Italian descent from New York, and his face lit up when he learned that Dave had spent an entire summer in Milan, Rome, and Palermo.

The hours passed quickly, between a chat and a coffee break.

“One table is still missing, in the middle,” Dave wiped the sweat away with his hand and helped Marco carry a round table. Together they laid it on the floor, and Dave grabbed it by one of the legs.

Marco was already wearing his uniform, consisting of a long-sleeved white shirt, a red and gray pinstripe vest, and a matching bow tie. He called a coworker to place the tablecloths and embellish the chairs with light pink ribbons.

Dave glanced towards the hall entrance and turned to Marco, who checked on a map that the tables were arranged symmetrically.

"Do you know how it's going in the kitchen?" Dave asked. In his haste, he had forgotten to say hello to Diego.

Marco ruffled his brown hair, short on the sides but longer in the center. "Well, the last time I went to the kitchen they were almost done making the shrimp cocktail."

"I'll check if there are any problems," Dave concluded. "Can you manage?"

"I can," replied Marco.

Dave left Marco in charge to direct the work and headed for the kitchen.

Diego had chosen a team of seven, leaving the rest of the staff at the restaurant to help Rob. Dave wondered if they all had underestimated the scale of the event. Everyone seemed busy, some in the kitchen, some decorating the dishes. Diego was scolding a girl for not cutting the tomatoes thin enough, and she seemed on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Even under stress, Diego preferred to use a quiet tone, and no one felt really intimidated by him. If the girl looked that scared, Dave figured they were all under quite a lot of pressure.

Diego noticed Dave and approached him. "Oh, D," he greeted him. "I thought I'd see you in a few hours, wearing a tie." He looked him up and down, no doubt judging his appearance to be inappropriate.

Dave shrugged. “I needed to be distracted, so I came a few hours ago to help out. How are you doing here? "

One of the boys interrupted Diego, telling him that the citrus tuna tartare appetizers were ready, and that they needed his approval. Diego wiped his hands on his apron, and signaled Dave to follow him.

“We had some problems with the eggplant mousse for the vegan dish, but nothing too serious. You know me, I know how to deal with inconveniences."

Dave had suggested closing the restaurant for the day, but Diego had insisted on having his way. He had designated Robert as  _ Sea Pearl _ 's chef and had taken responsibility for Brittany's event. Dave trusted him blindly, but he didn't hide from him that he felt some anxiety.

Looking at the eight trays of appetizers, he managed to breathe a sigh of relief.

"The desserts Brittany wanted?" Dave asked.

Diego raised the thumb of his right hand, with a toothy smile. “We will start preparing them shortly. I spent the weekend thinking of a candy floss cake that was elegant enough to satisfy the palates of people accustomed to a certain standard of living, and I think I surpassed myself."

Diego wasn't the kind of person who liked to brag, but at that moment he seemed incredibly proud of himself. Dave knew him well and admired his passion for challenges. When he introduced him to Brittany's additions to the menu, Diego had been overwhelmed with excitement like a child in a toy store.

"Perfect," Dave said, pleased. "Brittany will be happy."

They were interrupted by the sound of Dave's cell phone alarm, which he had set before leaving his flat. It was three o'clock, so Dave had time to go home, freshen up, and maybe get some rest. That morning he had retrieved a dark gray suit he hadn't worn from his father's wedding, for which he had not yet had time to choose a suitable tie. He had joked with Santana on the phone about the red flower he wore to the high school prom, and together they remembered their  unusua l time as a couple. She had sent him with a photo of her red dress, very similar to their prom night, and challenged Dave to wear something along those lines. Of course, he refused.

“You’re a guest, Dave. Try to have fun, at least for tonight.” Diego's tone of voice relayed some apprehension, as if he were afraid of saying the wrong thing. His friend's attitude had become much more protective after the terrible night at _Mystic Lion_ _.  _ Diego, in particular, seemed to have transformed into his father. During work hours he was asked repeatedly how he was doing, or offered more breaks than necessary. Even James was keeping an eye on him, perhaps worried about seeing him burst into tears again. Dave wanted to sink in shame.

He patted Diego on the shoulder. "Don't worry, that's what I'm going to do." He paused, as if to weigh the words. “I'll be a lot better after moving once and for all.”

Diego nodded, his arms crossed over his chest. “I'm glad to hear you say that. I called my cousin, Rosa. Did I tell you she was moving to Boston in December? She has a nice apartment in the Bronx. Two bedrooms and one bathroom. Nothing too sophisticated, but the price is affordable. You could go take a look."

"That would be great. Remind me to call her in the next few days."

He remembered a mention of Rosa's divorce in the previous days. Diego had made clear his disdain for her ex-husband, who had cheated on her with a younger woman. He thought about how similar their situations were, and how they both needed a fresh start. He did not mind the idea of actively moving around looking for an apartment, rather than waiting for the call from the real estate agency.

After another quick glance at the watch, he hastily greeted Diego, promising to have a chat after the event. The cloudy sky prompted him to consider the subway rather than risk being caught in traffic in the back seat of a taxi. He had brought a folding umbrella, ready for a possible storm, and he didn't mind the fifteen-minute walk between the bus stop and his apartment.

Dave put on his coat and scarf. He nodded to Cindy, who was talking on the phone, and as he left he was surprised by the sudden change of the temperature. The sky was cloudy and the air seemed to herald the arrival of winter. Dave rubbed his hands together and warmed them with his breath. He quickened his pace, making sure it was safe to cross the pedestrian crossing.

He couldn't wait to take a hot shower.

**

The weather was terrible, and Kurt didn't think it would stop raining anytime soon. He cursed his choice not to dress too warm when the breeze forced him to tighten his arms around his body, seized by chills. He hastily hailed a taxi and appreciated that the heating inside it was on. In the distance, Kurt caught a glimpse of a lightning bolt making its way through the dark sky and instinctively sent a text to Grace, recommending that she pay special attention to Tracy. During storm nights it was not uncommon for Tracy to ask him to sleep in the same bed, or to want to be hugged and cuddled. On those occasions, Kurt loved to spoil her with unexpected gifts, Disney movie marathons, or chocolate chip cookies.

Kurt was heartened by Grace's prompt response, which assured him that Tracy hadn't noticed the thunder and rain, too busy with cartoons and illustrated books with photos of animals he had bought her a few days earlier. To reassure him even more, she sent him a photo of Tracy taken from behind, looking completely absorbed in the pages of one of the books. Kurt couldn't hold back a smile, and his body relaxed. It was unbelievable how much he missed his daughter, and it just pissed him off thinking about Blaine's careless behavior. He knew he was being unfair, but at that moment he took no particular interest in his ex-husband's hurt feelings.

Kurt arrived early for Brittany's event, around 4 o'clock, but was surprised to see that the hall was already quite crowded, with small groups of people arguing heatedly, enjoying food, and sipping glasses of wine. Unlike other events he had been to, it seemed that the average age of those present was around thirty, with a few exceptions that stood out for their graying hair and their more formal attire.

He looked around for Santana, who had asked him to meet her near the refreshment table, but saw no sign of her. Instead, he recognized Quinn's profile, taking pictures of a young couple using the chocolate fountains as a background.

"May I ask for your name, sir?" His attention was drawn to the receptionist, a short woman, of Korean descent, who wore thick eyeglasses.

"Kurt Hummel." He smoothed the indigo Armani jacket which he had worn with a pair of white, gray, and indigo plaid trousers, and deep gray ankle boots with laces. For the occasion he had chosen a cat-shaped pewter brooch.

The woman  searched for his name on her tablet . “You're welcome, Mr. Hummel.  Enjoy your evening ."

Kurt made his way through the guests, towards Quinn, who was wearing a caramel leather jacket and a pair of skinny jeans. Over her shoulder, she carried a Nikon D5, which Kurt recognized because it was the same model used by  _ Vogue _ photographers. Her hair was loose in golden waves, and the peach blush on her cheeks gave her the look of a porcelain doll. He hadn't seen her for about a year, and even on that occasion the time they had spent together had been very short. Quinn had been in New York for a charity party hosted by the Broadway company that Rachel was part of, but an unexpected event forced her to leave for Lima the following morning. Contact between Kurt and Quinn was very sporadic, often limited to good wishes on holidays and birthdays.

Kurt walked over to her and tapped her shoulder. A look of surprise painted Quinn's face.

"Kurt!" she exclaimed. "I can't believe it! How nice to see you!" They exchanged a short hug, and she wrapped her arms around his neck. She wore  heeled ankle-boots with a floral pattern. Quinn's face hadn't aged at all, and her style didn’t too, but her attitude had lost its adolescent impetuosity, gaining grace and refinement. Her slim figure gave off an ethereal aura, and her hair smelled of vanilla.

"You look so good," she exclaimed, giving him a smile.

"Thank you," Kurt replied, taking a quick look at her outfit. "You are ... gorgeous. No matter how amazing my boots are, yours are always better. I love the blue ones you are wearing, and they look so good with your babydoll top." Quinn blushed, in a rush of sudden shyness. “Accept the compliment of someone who works for  _ Vogue,  _ Quinn. You would look great on the cover of our magazine."

They both laughed, but Quinn shook her head, holding up her hands. "No, thanks. I guess there are too many Sue Sylvesters there for my taste."

Kurt couldn't help but roll his eyes. "I think I've developed an armor to protect myself from those kinds of people."

Quinn recalled Sue's protein shakes with distaste, and Kurt shivered, thinking back to his Cheerio days during sophomore year. Sue's nonsensical rantings and afternoons spent in grueling practices and corpse-flavored drinks.

After several minutes of reminiscing, for better or for worse, Kurt took the opportunity to tell Quinn about Maddie. “I heard from a friend of mine about your photo exhibition, and I wanted to congratulate you in person. She is a huge fan of yours." He laughed heartily, remembering his red-haired friend and her unbridled passion for Quinn. "I think her bedroom is filled with your photos."

Quinn grinned when a waiter asked them if they would have liked a glass of champagne. Kurt shook his head, thanking him, while Quinn grabbed one from the tray and took a sip. “My next show will be here in New York, this spring. It will be about traditions of the peoples of North Africa. I would like you to come, and your friend is welcome to the after-party, if she’s interested. It's always nice to meet a fan." She winked at him, and Kurt was sure Madeleine would have a crying reaction similar to Rachel's the first time she met Barbra Streisand.

"That would be great. I think it might be interesting for Tracy too, actually."

Quinn put the empty glass down on the table and ran a hand through her blond curls. “There will be an interactive part for children ages three to ten. One of my goals is to help young people discover cultures different from ours and bring them closer to certain issues."

Kurt told her about Tracy's class, and the time she made a drawing of a boy and a girl embracing the Earth, surrounded by dogs, cats, birds and horses. It was a work that had kept her busy for weeks.

“How's Tracy? The divorce must have been hard for her."

Kurt looked down. He didn't mind talking about the divorce, but he still felt bad remembering the months that followed, during which Tracy had seemed inconsolable.

"Very hard," he replied. "But now we've found a balance, even though Blaine is often out of town." It occurred to him to remind his ex-husband once again about Tracy's play. He knew he was being nagging, but Blaine was so busy that he often got confused with dates.

"I can imagine."

They both allowed a few seconds of silence, and Quinn took the opportunity to take pictures of the guests. “I have to admit that after closing my blog I preferred to avoid dealing with these kinds of events, but I couldn't refuse Brittany this favor."

"Have you stayed in touch with Brittany and Santana?" Kurt asked. He'd taken it for granted, but only because the three girls had been inseparable in high school, a bit like Charlie's Angels in cheerleading uniforms. They were nicknamed "The Unholy Trinity", although Kurt was unaware of who coined that name.

Quinn seemed to take a moment to think. Her hand stroked her chin, as if she were looking for the right words. “Not as much as I would like, to be honest. It is difficult to find time to meet, but when our schedule permits we try to make good use of Skype. I knew Brittany's career was taking off, but I have to admit it was a surprise when Santana told me she had won the IDA."

"Yeah. I’m really proud of her." Kurt grabbed a triangle of toast with tuna tartare. His taste buds were pampered by the delicate and not too intrusive flavors of the fish, among which the sour note of what at first taste looked like grapefruit stood out. He made an appreciative sound that sounded almost obscene.

“Brittany with her own interior design agency... it feels unbelievable.” Quinn said, weighing her words."I always thought her true passion was dance, but I never questioned her creativity."

Kurt nodded as Quinn decided to try one of the appetizers that Kurt had enjoyed so much.

"Another win for the Glee Club."

They laughed together, and for a moment Kurt was a teenager again. He felt a wave of nostalgia for Lima, for the corridors of McKinley, for Mr. Shuester and his obsession with Journey. His personal dramas had prevented him from fully enjoying what had been one of the most important periods of his life, but he was sure it was the same for a lot of teenagers. He knew Quinn had many regrets too and wondered if she had news of Beth,  who was quickly approaching the age Quinn had been when she had her . It didn't seem like the right time to open that chapter, so he banished his natural curiosity and ate another snack.

A few minutes passed, which Quinn used to adjust her camera lens and in which Kurt called Tracy, and got her to tell him how her evening was going. He promised to come home soon, and if possible bring her some cake.

Quinn was the first to notice two old acquaintances peeking out among the guests. "Isn’t that Artie... and Tina?"

Kurt had expected to see Artie, but Tina's sudden appearance turned out to be somewhat weird. He had to sharpen his eyes to make sure it was really her. She was wearing a knee-length blue silk dress and high-heeled shoes. Her hair was shorter, dyed a brownish-blond, slightly wavy on the tips. There wasn't much left of the goth girl Kurt and Quinn had known in high school, pretending to stammer to avoid confrontation. Tina seemed incredibly confident and walked as if she were strutting down the middle of a catwalk.

Quinn's face slipped into a hard-to-read expression, akin to a wry laugh, which reminded Kurt of her years as head cheerleader. "Looks like she doesn't mind getting noticed," the blonde whispered in his ear. "And I didn't know she was still with Artie."

Kurt shook his head, gesturing in the direction of the two to get their attention. "They're just friends as far as I know.”

Artie and Tina had dated for a few months five years back. Kurt remembered them holding hands and exchanging a few fleeting kisses during Rachel's Tony Award ceremony. Not long afterwards he had heard news that Tina, returning from a vacation, had accepted the marriage proposal of a wealthy Irish businessman. It had been a short union, but it had left her with a considerable amount of money. After the divorce, she moved to Columbus, where she opened a famous designer clothing shop.

Artie waved at Kurt, and Tina flashed a beaming smile, maybe a little over the top. She pushed Artie's wheelchair in their direction, exchanging a few words with him.

“I didn't know you'd be here too, Quinn,” Tina squeezed her arms around Quinn's neck, almost to the point of losing her balance. She did the same with Kurt, who barely noticed Artie roll his eyes, looking like he was suffering from a severe migraine. "She couldn't stop talking about this reunion, to the point that my ears hurt." Artie raised his hands in surrender, noticing Tina's unfriendly look.

Quinn and Kurt exchanged glances and barely held back a laugh.

"It's sad not to be able to see each other as often as we used to," Tina began, with the emphasis worthy of a play. “The only ones who say hi from time to time are Mercedes, Blaine, and Sam. It's like you all disappeared." Her tone of voice rose an octave.

Kurt remembered the time Tina molested Blaine with the vaporub and when she asked Mike to marry her despite not seeing each other for months. The last thing he wanted was to spend an evening in the company of her delusions. He apologized and promised to call her more often. Quinn assured her that she was staying in New York for a few days, and that she would like to organize a girls' night out like in the old days.

Tina smoothed her hair using a handbag mirror and checked her red lipstick for smudging. Artie put a hand to his temple and started massaging it. He wore a dark suit and a bow tie with a regimental pattern similar to the Dalton ties. He owned the retro style that had accompanied him as a teenager and had acquired a certain mature charm. He wore his hair slicked back and had replaced glasses with contact lenses. Sometimes he could act arrogant and let slip comments laced with sarcasm. Kurt was often bothered by the inelegant phrases about women Artie was dating, but Santana was always quick to put him in his place.

Artie had spent the first few years after leaving college working occasionally for various television companies. His contributions boiled down to directing one episode of  _ Medical Department, _ a series that Kurt had followed closely for years, and two of a music show whose name he always struggled to remember. He had also shot several commercials and directed a low-budget children's movie. After playing the role of a dead body on  _ The Dark Side of New York _ , a popular detective series that had been running for five years, Artie had come into the good graces of one of the principal directors, who appreciated his resourcefulness. He had gained a full-time job from it and was currently directing a good portion of the episodes.

Tina had a furious expression on her face, as if she were haunted by a buzzing insect she could not chase away. She snorted, cell phone in hand. "I swear, if Carlos calls me again, I may no longer be responsible for my actions." She drank a full glass of white wine, and Kurt was left undecided about asking her for information or maintaining his silence. He noticed that Quinn seemed to have the same questions on the tip of her tongue.

Artie seized the opportunity, and spoke using a condescending tone. “If you’d answer him for once, instead of pretending to be sick with Nile fever, maybe he wouldn't be so insistent. It's not entirely his fault. You do know that, right?"

Tina rolled her eyes and gritted her teeth, as if she had just eaten a lemon wedge. "It. Was. Only. A. Kiss. How can you compare it to Carlos having fun with the Thai masseuse? Miss Siriporn,” She grimaced in disgust. "With a name like that, the poor thing couldn't get very far." With one hand she stopped Artie, who seemed to be about to fight back. "Don't start. I can make this kind of joke. I'm Korean and mad."

Kurt was sure he was in a time machine, and he was in the middle of one of the Glee Club dramas. Kisses, engagements, breakups, and singing marathons to channel the urge to choke each other, or lock themselves in the bathroom to make out. There had been a time when he had felt a tinge of jealousy towards these unlikely love triangles, but he was sure it wasn't a weird feeling for a gay teenager living in a small town.

Quinn caught Tina's attention poking a finger on her shoulder. "Tina, honey, can I ask who Carlos is?”

And Kurt couldn't help but listen. Being in the same room with his old friends had ignited the fuse of his love of gossip, which he had subsided over the years but never been completely suppressed.

"My disgusting ex-husband," Tina replied. She rushed to the second glass of wine, as if her life depended on it. "I really need a drink. Don't judge me."

Kurt was wide-eyed, not from Tina's behavior, but from the many pieces of the puzzle that seemed to be wrong. "Wait a minute," he said, trying to find in his memory some past conversation that perhaps he hadn't given enough weight. "I'm pretty sure your ex-husband's name was Nathan."

"Nathan Walsh," Quinn asserted. "I was at your wedding."

Tina dismissed them both with a raised eyebrow. “Oh, please. Nathan and I are so 2021. At least it was a profitable divorce. With Carlos it lasted two years. I'm sorry I didn't invite you, but it was rushed. One of those Las Vegas weddings you see in movies." Tina seemed to get lost in a dream in which she was next to prince charming, in a white dress and crystal slippers. Unfortunately, she reluctantly returned to reality and made a low hiss similar to that of a rattlesnake. “If only I had known more about that pervert. Can you imagine it? He liked to film himself while..."

"I think I know enough, thanks Tina." Kurt was moving his open hands left and right, as if he could evade the images forming in his head by simply changing the air. He was too gay for that conversation, and Tina was almost a sister. He felt like a child who caught his parents having sex.

Quinn covered a laugh with her hand. Kurt was sure she was trying to avoid laughing to tears. “So you got divorced? Again?" she asked, trying to get serious.

“I couldn't do anything else. At least I can say that I plucked the bastard properly." She took a moment to catch a breath. Her face had gone redder, but her makeup still looked flawless. "God, I miss the times when I only fell in love with gay men."

Artie seemed to have heard that story too many times and had enough of it.

Among their group of friends, Kurt was sure that Artie and Tina were the closest, but he figured it wasn't easy to put up with each other. He would have given his life for Rachel, but sometimes he still wanted to put a sock in her mouth.

“But you kissed another man, Tina. While you were married to Carlos. Before he got it on with the masseuse," exclaimed Artie.

Quinn and Kurt exchanged yet another glance, noting that Tina's blush had spread to the tips of her ears. They didn't know if it was anger or embarrassment.

"I'll tell you for the umpteenth time," she barked. “It was just a kiss. I'm not sure what Carlos and Siriporn did in our bed, but I assure you it was much more serious."

Kurt let out a sigh. Deep down, he still had a romantic soul, despite the fact that he was no longer a teenager and had a divorce behind him. He was sure that sooner or later he would find true love, even if he didn't know when it would happen, or how. Some would have considered him old-fashioned, but he still liked to imagine someone who would be interested in kissing or having sex with him, and him only.

Thanks to Blaine, just talking about cheating gave him an allergic reaction. He felt sorry for both Tina and Carlos, but at the same time he would have preferred to cover his ears and not listen to another single word.

Luckily, Santana peeked into the room, her arm tightly around Brittany's waist. Kurt had never been so happy to see them. Artie gasped and let out a quiet comment about how proud he was that he lost his virginity to Brittany. Kurt pretended not to hear anything, but Quinn said that Santana had been her first time with a woman. Kurt blushed like a schoolboy, and to avoid making a fool of himself he decided to try a taste of melted white chocolate.

Brittany let herself be carried away by a group of guests, who kissed her cheeks and complimented her dress. Santana preferred to avoid those pleasantries and decided to let Brittany handle the greetings herself.

“I'll be goddamned if this isn't the saddest loser gathering in history. What are these faces?" Santana approached them. Her arms were crossed, and she was looking down on them.

Quinn threw her arms around her neck. "I missed you, San." The camera slipped between their bodies, making the hug uncomfortable for both of them. Santana stroked her back, as if comforting her.

"I'm happy to see you too, Q. I can't say the same for the others." She glanced at Artie and Tina. 

Kurt rolled his eyes.

Santana wore a long red dress, which hugged the curves of her body perfectly, and a white gold necklace featuring a tiger. Her bare back featured a small lizard tattoo. A less visible one that bore the date of her marriage to Brittany could be seen on her forearm. Her long black hair was held in place by a braid, which ran down her shoulder on one side.

When a paparazzo took an unwanted photo of her, she refrained from making a scene. "Who let them in?" She growled.

Santana began her acting career with the now historic Yeast-I-Stat ad, which was followed by others that advertised pantyhose, toothpaste, and nail polish. In her spare time, she sang in one of the most famous clubs in New York, where a producer had offered her a secondary role in the same television series for which Artie directed episodes. Thus was born Veronica Maribel Ramirez, a detective specializing in organized crime and mafia, to whom the protagonist, Samuel Murphy, a former soldier whose wife had lost her life in an armed robbery, often asked for advice. Santana's character had met with some success with the public, providing her with the cover of a famous magazine and several interviews.

The rise of Artie's career had been a surprise, but the fact that Santana worked for him was an almost disturbing coincidence. In recent years, New York had become a destination for many of Kurt's former Glee Club friends, and their paths seemed to cross continuously between a fashion show, a photo shoot, or a Broadway play.

Years ago, Santana would have loved being the center of attention. She had been a popular girl, a cheerleader, and a performer. She had tasted popularity as a young girl, when she was noticed in the crowd for her beauty and her fiery temper. It was impossible for her to walk down a corridor without everyone turning to look at her. In a town like Lima, Santana had accepted the various attentions that were paid to her, even the most bizarre or out of place. It often happened that boys couldn't see past her curves, or her doe eyes, and they expected her to have an easy girl attitude.

Being an actress had shown her an even darker side of a still very male-dominated society.

She often received inappropriate letters, and photos taken of her with Brittany and ended up on disreputable websites. Santana had become more withdrawn about her privacy, especially her marriage and her friends. After seeing her face and that of her wife placed on the bodies of two adult film actresses, Santana had become somewhat irritable with those who did not respect her spaces. On YouTube, there were videos that showed her attacking the paparazzi with swear words and unfriendly gestures.

Brittany appeared from behind her, wrapped around her arms around Santana’s waist, and placed a fleeting kiss on her cheek. Unlike Santana, Brittany preferred pastel colors. Pink, light blue, yellow. Tonight she had chosen an aquamarine tulle skirt and a pearly-hued bodice. She had the bearing of a dancer, with a slender body and very long legs.

"What did I miss?" she asked in an excited voice. Santana met her face, and gently kissed her lips.

"Just bullishit about Tina's new divorce," she replied.

"It was Carlos' fault!" Tina began, stamping her foot like a child.

Brittany nodded. “There is still a divorce in your future, Tina. Remember when I read your hand? Destiny has spoken. Three divorces, a child after forty, and a Pekinese named Penny."

Tina had a shocked expression, gaping.

Quinn let out a loud laugh. She had to clench her stomach. She put a hand on Brittany's shoulder. “I love you Britt,” Quinn said, trying to find her voice. "But I could listen to you all evening, and I wouldn't be able to get any work done." She hugged her briefly. "See you later. And congratulations."

Kurt woke up from the numbness induced by the proximity of his old high school friends and focused his attention on Brittany. She seemed at ease, despite the attention paid to her and her name in large letters at the hotel entrance. If Kurt didn't know her, he would have thought she was masking her nervousness, but Brittany knew how to find the playful and fun side, even in the most stressful situations.

Kurt congratulated her, and Quinn took the opportunity to snap a picture of the two in a hug, before finally returning to her work.

“I had a dream about this night, so it's like I'm living it for the second time,” Brittany said, shrugging. “I already know it will be fine. Even though in my dream Tina had three arms, and Santana was naked."

Santana covered her face with her hand. “Please B, don't talk about this on stage. Okay?"

"I'm not drunk enough for all this," said Tina. She took two glasses of champagne, and drank first from one and then from the other, all in one gulp. Artie, on the other hand, seemed ecstatic at the sight of Brittany. Her white skin and her very blond hair, loose in elegant curls that framed her face. She was incredibly beautiful, and Kurt was sure Artie would always have a little crush on her.

He knew he had to change the subject. He preferred to avoid knowing the details of Tina's sex life, or why Santana was naked in Brittany's dream. “I really need your impressions after the presentation, Britt,” he said. “A few words would be enough. Isabelle wants a report on this evening by next week."

Kurt mentally took note of the familiar atmosphere in the room, perhaps favored by the appearance of old friends that he would have liked to see more often. He would have spent a few lines of praise on the buffet and on Brittany's outfit, but he knew that the most important moment would take place on stage, where his friend would give her speech to the audience.

Brittany nodded. "Absolutely. But I warn you. You know when I start talking I could do it for hours. Tubby always says my voice distracts him from the TV. "

There was a streak of affection in Santana's dark eyes, which was replaced almost immediately by her usual contemptuous smile. “That cat is rude. And he thinks he's the only one who has the authority to stay on the sofa."

"Don't be mean," Brittany admonished. “Tubby has an addiction to reality shows and junk TV. It's a serious problem."

Kurt had to laugh, because it looked like Tubby really had an addiction, but he was pretty sure he preferred soft surfaces and food over TV. He was sure he had seen him at least once lick some Coke off the floor, like it was milk.

“Tubby? Do you mean Lord Tubbington? " Tina asked, and at that moment Kurt was sure that if they weren't in a public place, surrounded by photographers, Santana would have taken her head off.

Artie looked down, hoping like everyone else that Brittany wouldn't be saddened.

Looking around, Tina realized the mistake. It had been too many years, and if Lord Tubbington had still been alive, he would have ended up in a Guinness World Record. Realizing the mistake, Tina lost her smile. “I shouldn't have asked. I apologize."

"Anyone want something to drink?" Artie tried, but Brittany didn't answer, and Santana braced herself for a fit of crying.

Brittany loved Tubby, but she had never recovered from Lord Tubbington's death.

As expected, a flash of sadness took hold of Brittany's crystalline gaze. Santana rested her chin on her shoulder and wrapped her arms around her waist. "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, honey."

The blonde allowed herself a moment, then shook her head. "No. I'm glad you asked, Tina. Lord Tubbington is gone, but he hasn't really gone away. I had a vision." Brittany's face became more serious. “He's sad now, because the food isn't as tasty as it used to be, but he's finally made friends with other cats. I think he and Tubby talk sometimes when we sleep. I’ve heard them mysteriously murmuring behind me and San's backs."

Kurt exchanged a smile with Santana, knowing they had averted a catastrophe. “It doesn't surprise me. Lord Tubbington and Tubby have many things in common."

Tina asked to see a photo of Tubby, and Santana chose one where the cat hissed at Artie.

“What kind of photo is that? Tubby isn't that big, and he looks like I'm afraid of him,” exclaimed Artie.

Santana looked at him out of the corner of her eye. “Don't pretend. Whenever our cat even looks in your direction, you just want to hide behind one of us. Maybe it’s your sexist bullshit that irritates him so much."

Everyone laughed heartily, including Artie. The atmosphere had become lighter, almost relaxing.

They spent a few minutes talking about this and that, and Santana didn't miss the chance to reminisce about the warm climate of Los Angeles, where she had lived with Brittany before moving to New York. Instead, her wife reminded her how much she loved the New York winter - snowmen and hats with pom poms.

Brittany had to leave shortly after when she noticed her younger sister's blonde head in the crowd, "I'm going to say hello to Heather," she exclaimed, excitedly. She kissed Santana on the lips and whispered to join her soon. She didn't want to speak to the public without Santana's presence backstage.

Brittany's sister looked a lot like her, but she had short hair, and she was a little shorter. Kurt had met her when she was still a little girl, at one of the parties cheerleaders loved to throw every year. It seemed a lifetime ago.

"You better pray that the speech will be fine, you three," Santana said, her hands on her hips. "I swear I'm a bundle of nerves."

“You know perfectly well that there will be no problems. Brittany has a natural talent, and it's impossible for anyone to not like her,” Kurt assured her, aware of how stressful such an evening could be.

Santana had to nod, letting out a sweet smile and a sigh that allowed her to let out the air accumulated in her lungs. "You can bet on it, Porce."

Tina looked a bit tipsy. She was sitting on Artie's lap, crossing her legs too provocatively. Santana let out a grimace of disgust when she saw her licking her lips in front of a group of men in suits.

Kurt hoped no one recognized him.

"Are you looking for a gang bang?" Santana decided to strategically place herself between her friend's bare legs and the flirtatious looks of what appeared to be a pervert in his sixties.

Tina's face took on an expression of exaggerated surprise. She put her hand to her chest, and looked at Santana in disbelief. "What do you take me for?" She pointed with her finger at the group of young men. “I'm only interested in him. Tall, dark hair, tanned.” She let out a sensual sigh. She turned to Artie. "You know I have a passion for men with glasses."

"Yeah," he replied. "That's why I stopped wearing them." Tina gave him an affectionate slap on the arm.

“To be forgiven, you’ll have to help me conquer him. He could be the man of my dreams.”

Santana put a hand on his shoulder. “Come on, Abrams. Lead Tina to her third divorce."

"That wasn't nice," Kurt let out, despite holding back a laugh. "Behave like a knight in shining armor and accompany your damsel." He exchanged a high five with Santana, but they both got serious when the guy with glasses that Tina liked turned to look at them, a little confused.

Kurt was sure his gaydar was exploding like a Fourth of July firework.

"I hate you," Tina scolded them, without much conviction. 

Artie began to drive his friend, still seated on his lap, towards the object of her desire.

Kurt turned to Santana, eyebrow raised. "You know that guy is gay, right?"

The brunette allowed herself a glass of wine. "Sure. But why take away the fun of her finding out herself?”

They allowed themselves a little nod when the guy with glasses showed Tina a wedding ring, and took the hand of an older, blond man, showing that union as a trophy to poor Tina.

They both wondered who their friend would set her eyes on now that her dream of love was shattered.

The evening proceeded monotonously, like an old Glee Club reunion, but without the music. Kurt thought about how much he missed Rachel's presence, the exchange of looks and their special way of ending each other's sentences. He drank a glass of wine or two, but could not completely banish the melancholy.

He even missed Blaine, even though he was still mad at him.


	6. Chapter 6

The sky was split in two by violent lightning, as if someone in the sky were furiously trying to destroy the Earth. The rain was heavy, almost deafening as it pounded against the asphalt. The streets were nearly gridlocked, and the taxis were driving at a much slower speed than usual.

Dave checked his Facebook and Instagram notifications, but got bored almost immediately. He hadn't posted anything other than his profile picture and a few quotes from a book he'd just read. He preferred anonymity, passing by in the crowd without attracting attention. It was an deep-seated fear had that been with him since he was a boy, well before he realized that he was gay. He had discovered this fear with the first physical changes, during the last years of elementary school. The other children were short, small, and their bodies were lost in baggy sweatshirts and creased jeans. Dave was different. At ten he possessed the sexual maturity of a teenager, with a big build and the first hairs on his body. He wanted to hide it, to pretend to be like the others, but it wasn't something he could change or hide.

He had learned to use his body type to seek popularity, but his attraction to boys made him once again different. It had been a battle he had fought tooth and nail, but could never win. After high school, he had finally let his true self be shown. His shy side, who preferred to be on the sidelines rather than in the middle of the field.

Upon arriving at the Marriott, he realized that Brittany's evening was quite the success. He couldn't avoid feeling proud, noting that most of the guests were enjoying the appetizers from his restaurant. He took note to congratulate Diego at the end of the evening, and Marco too, for the excellent oversight of the catering. The tables were set to perfection, and the waiters tended to the guests very well, offering them food and wine. He left his coat and scarf with the doorman and shuffled into the crowd.

He caught a glimpse of an Asian woman dressed in blue, wearing ultra-high heels. He was sure he had seen her before but he couldn't remember where. Maybe a magazine, or maybe she was one of Santana's actress friends. He didn't waste much time mulling it over.

The desserts were really good. Dave tasted one after greeting one of his waitresses. They were similar to candy pink cream caramel covered with a vanilla and cream glaze. The taste of cotton candy reminded him of childhood - fairs, the queue to get on the rides, the scent of the fair food. He sighed, letting the taste, perhaps a little too sweet but incredibly pleasant, drown him in memories.

"Davey!" He recognized Brittany's voice, and felt her arms around him. She kissed him on the cheek, and he instinctively wiped himself with his hand, to avoid lipstick stains. "I'm so happy to see you."

They remained close to each other for a few seconds. Brittany was gorgeous. The perfect portrait of beauty and achievement.

Dave loved her golden hair and that dress that fit her so perfectly. "You are beautiful."

He wasn't the kind of person to throw around compliments, but Brittany seemed to shine with her own light, and it would be foolish and unfair to keep his mouth shut.

She blushed a little, and looked him up and down. “You are ... elegant. If I wasn't married I'd ask you to make out."

He coughed, embarrassed, but Brittany's crystalline laugh convinced him to give her another hug. "Too gay, sorry."

She winked at him. “You are forgiven this time. But only because the food is great. I think I'll ask Santana to steal something for Tubby or he might get angry and decide not to talk to me again."

"I'm sure he'd forgive you," Dave replied, elated. He realized how much he had missed Brittany's humor. “But I can ask Diego to save some tuna for him. I would never want Tubby to lose weight."

Brittany nodded with conviction. "No, if he was skinny, it would be too sad."

A couple waved at her, and she responded with a smile. "I'd like to talk longer, but there's a very long list of people I have to say hello to." She looked at him, a little guilty. “My speech will start in about an hour, and I'm pretty much on the run. Can you look for Santana? I think she's still at the dessert table."

Sadly, Dave let Brittany go back to her star duties of the night as he began to look around, trying to catch a glimpse of Santana among the people passing by.

His breath caught, literally, as he spotted Santana, in a red dress, across the room where Brittany thought she would be.

She was laughing, holding a glass of wine in one hand, while playing with her thick braid of raven hair with the other. She gave off an air of confidence, and it was impossible for his eyes not to be drawn to her.

But that wasn't what hit him.

Dave stood still, as if his feet were made of concrete. Standing next to Santana, he recognized Kurt Hummel.

**

Dave gave him a confused look, and Kurt blushed because he never expected to run into him tonight. It was a blush of embarrassment, with a hint of guilt. He had promised to call Dave, but his job, Tracy, and his constant irritation with Blaine had completely distracted him from the brief meeting with David the previous week. Kurt expected Santana to be surprised by this sudden appearance too, but instead she was hugging him tightly and gave him two loud kisses on the cheek. Dave wrapped his hands around her slim waist.

"Finally, someone I really wanted to see," she whispered to him.

This was definitely not a chance meeting of two old acquaintances who hadn't heard from each other for years. In those few seconds, Santana had been kinder to Dave than she had been to Kurt during all the long months spent living together. Or in his whole life. Unintentionally, he had begun to stare at them as if they were two animals in a strange mating ritual.

"Hey, Kurt," Dave greeted him, with Santana still tight to his chest.

Even in his eyes, Kurt noticed a certain embarrassment. Dave hadn't called him over the past days either, and it was a consolation not to be the only one feeling a little uncomfortable.

He returned the greeting, and looked at the two warily. “Hey, David. I ... I didn't know you two were close."

Santana nudged Dave and laughed, balancing her glass of wine. For a moment, Kurt imagined her spilling it on David's suit like it was one of those slushies that ruined his best outfits at McKinley. Instead, the glass remained firmly in Santana's manicured hands, resting simply on Dave's shoulder. Dressed like that, and wrapped around each other, they looked like James Bond and one of his Bond Girls.

“Who wouldn't want to have this teddy bear as their best friend?” She said, pinching his cheek.

Okay, Santana was slightly tipsy, but Dave seemed sober and used to her way of talking. Dave looked at Kurt with a smirk painted on his lips, as if to say, "Don't listen to her, we both know how she is," and even let her kiss him a third time on the cheek.

Kurt concluded that the two definitely had a fairly close friendship, which he knew absolutely nothing about.

“Brittany will be on stage soon. I saw her a while ago, and she seemed calm. If I were in her shoes, I would be terribly nervous," Dave said.

Santana took the last sip, and was lost in an expression of utter devotion and pride at hearing Brittany's name. "I better go to her," she said, then pointing his index finger at Dave's face. "Try not to disappear again, or I'll have to use my Veronica Ramirez's detective skills and get your butt back to New York using the heel of my shoe." Despite the somewhat threatening words, Santana ended the conversation with a wink. 

Kurt was following the weird exchange.

"I'll remember that, Lopez," Dave laughed. 

It was a spontaneous, crystalline laugh, which Kurt found particularly enjoyable.

"I'll leave you two alone," Santana said, finally remembering Kurt's presence. "Don't do anything I would do, okay?"

She left them both red in the face, exchanging a surprised look and trying to avoid all the implications of that sentence.

**

Dave cleared his throat, giving Kurt short glances and half smiles. He wanted to call him, and there was a moment, the one when his depression peaked, when he was ready to beg Kurt to distract him from that dark tunnel of despair. It seemed to be a twist of fate, a bit cruel and a bit ironic that Dave's desire to hear his voice resurfaced in the worst times.

Fate  had wanted Diego to get involved in that vicious circle, inviting him to what had become the infamous night at Mystic Lion _ , _ during which Dave had cried in the arms of a nineteen-year-old boy and kissed his best friend on the lips.

In fact, Dave was glad it happened. Otherwise that conversation with Kurt would have been much, much more embarrassing.

"So …" he toyed with his fingers, biting his lip. "How's your evening going?"

For a moment he wanted to complain about the bad weather, but that was just too cliché. Kurt seemed to think for a few seconds, then nodded. “I would say interesting. It's like a Glee Club reunion, in some way. I don't know if you've noticed Quinn, Artie, and Tina. And now you are here too. I certainly can't say I'm bored."

Oh. Dave had caught a glimpse of an Asian woman who seemed vaguely familiar, and it made perfect sense for Brittany to invite all her old friends from McKinley. And Kurt. How was it possible that in all those years neither Brittany nor Santana had ever mentioned that they kept in touch with him?

"I think I saw Tina, but I don't think she noticed me." And maybe it had been for the best. The last memory many of the Glee Club members had of him was not ... exactly pleasant.

Kurt laughed, for the first time without embarrassment, and Dave felt a slight sensation of apprehension in his stomach.

It was still Kurt. Jefferson had loved to tease him, saying that if Kurt showed up at their door, Dave would run away with him without thinking about it twice. Those occasions often ended in them picking up socks from the floor as ammunition in a sock war. Or with Dave torturing Jeff with photos of a shirtless Johnny Depp since Jeff had had a crush on him since he was young.

Dave was sure that Jeff had told Emily that he only loved his films for the plot. He snorted, unwittingly.

Pathetic.

"I'm sure Tina didn't notice you," Kurt said, with a raised eyebrow. “She seemed too busy looking for the love of her life. Or her next divorce. It depends on whether we want to look at it from a romantic or a realistic point of view."

Dave returned Kurt's smirk because he remembered Tina as the slightly too shy goth girl, and to think of her in that femme fatale role seemed almost unlikely.

"I like to think I'm still romantic," he concluded, without adding the "unfortunately" that seemed to be on the tip of his tongue. “By the way, where is Blaine? The last time we spoke was years ago."

Kurt tensed a little, and Dave hoped he hadn't opened a Pandora's box that would have been better left closed. Maybe Kurt was upset about his relationship with Blaine all those years ago. It had been an unexpected love, born in small talk in a bar, but Dave never thought it would hurt Kurt. Blaine assured him that it was over between them once and for all, and Dave hadn't asked too many questions about it.

Kurt looked down, and Dave felt like he should apologize. 

“Blaine is in Atlanta… with Rachel. He's become quite famous, and I'm happy for him. We got divorced two years ago."

Dave wanted to let a curse slip out. It was a more difficult situation than any jealousy Kurt might have felt towards him for dating Blaine. Dave was sure the couple’s relationship would last, despite the soap opera-worthy drama and the impromptu marriage. He wondered if he should try to comfort Kurt? Would his question upset Kurt enough to make him cry?

“Sorry, Kurt. I'm sorry, I didn't know… ” He looked around, hoping to see Tina or Quinn Fabray rush to his rescue and try to remedy his horrible habit of never keeping his mouth shut.

But, much to his surprise, Kurt shrugged. "Don't worry about it. It was one of our best decisions."

Dave felt instant relief, and he really hoped those words were true.

Kurt's face melted into a smile, full of tenderness, and his gaze was lost in the colors, scents, and faces in the room. Dave looked at him in amazement, wondering who that expression was for, if not Blaine. "I regret a lot about me and Blaine," he said, in a whisper. “In many ways, we were stupid. But I'm glad we had a daughter, and I can't imagine my life without her."

Dave mentally took note to ask Santana how the hell it was possible that in all of their meetings she never mentioned anything. Not about Kurt in New York, not about the divorce with Blaine, definitely not about the birth of a baby girl. It was a bizarre situation, as if they had both lived parallel lives, spending time with the same people and frequenting the same places, but staying in two separate universes.

It would have been almost poetic if Dave wasn't sure certain things didn't happen in real life. “I had no idea you and Blaine had a daughter. Wow... Congratulations. How old is she?"

He felt a tinge of jealousy, which hit his heart unexpectedly. Dave had learned to appreciate the company of children, and he liked to imagine himself in the role of a father. Cheering for the first tooth of his baby, teaching them to talk and walk, falling asleep hugging them as if the outside world did not matter. Jefferson had been amicable, sometimes even an active part of those fantasies, but deep down Dave knew he would never be ready to take that step with him. He had to hold back the resentment that ran through his body, remembering that Jefferson would actually become a father soon, but that child would grow up in the midst of a big lie.

He hoped Kurt hadn't noticed his sudden change of mood. He wasn't to blame, and Dave was really happy for him.

“Five years and three months. Her name is Tracy. Do you want to see her?" 

Before Dave could answer, Kurt walked over to him, handing him his cell phone. The last time they were this close, Dave was barely more than a kid.

"Look," Kurt exclaimed, trying to contain his enthusiasm. "We were at her friend's birthday party."

Dave gazed at a pretty little girl with long black hair and a cream-smeared mouth, and the negative feelings from earlier vanished, leaving him melting into a smile. “She's beautiful, Kurt. She looks a little like Blaine."

“ Mostly Rachel. She was our surrogate." Kurt's pale face took on a rosy hue as his fingers flicked through the gallery of images. Tracy in the pool, Tracy sleeping, Tracy eating breakfast. Kurt couldn't be a prouder dad if he tried. Dave began to feel much more comfortable, as if the atmosphere had lost the heaviness he felt at first.

He decided to return his trust, because talking about children seemed to have broken down the barriers of embarrassment.

He showed Kurt a photograph of two blond kids sitting on his lap, against the backdrop of unwrapped presents and a large Christmas tree festooned with red and gold decorations. One of the two children held a console in his hands, the other looked at the camera biting his nails. You could also see the face of Thor, an adorable Pomeranian who loved to wake him up with long licks on his face every morning. His father regarded him as a fourth child.

He tried not to think about the fact that this was the last Christmas he and Jefferson had spent together.

"Kevin and Kyle, my half brothers," Dave explained. “The photo is from last year. The two little pests are ten now, but I couldn't have two better little brothers."

Kurt stared at the photo intently, then returned to focus on him, with an amused smile. “Are you really wearing a reindeer sweater? Aren't they illegal yet?"

Dave blushed to his ears. He was sure he had thrown that mess in some drawer in his bedroom, where no one would ever find it again. "Shut up. I don't want to remember that. Let's pretend you didn't see anything?"

They looked at each other for a few seconds, and then burst out laughing.

It was ... nice, and Dave would show Kurt all of his awkward photos to have another moment like this.

"Your little brothers are really adorable, David," Kurt said, catching his breath. "The photo is adorable." 

And they laughed again, like it was the funniest thing in the world. Dave even forgot about Jefferson, the snowman they built with Kevin and Kyle that same day, and the kiss they shared behind the porch.

He was fine, or at least better than he had been in the last few weeks.

It was a passing thought, bizarre in its simplicity, but at that moment he really missed Lima - the hugs of his little brothers, Thor asleep at his feet, waking up with his father reading the newspaper and his stepmother preparing breakfast. The smell of freshly brewed coffee and scrambled eggs.

He sighed, lost in that strange nostalgia.

"Oh," he remembered suddenly, amused. “I ran into Finn while I was in Lima. I never thought he would become an elementary school teacher. Kyle was always talking about a Mr. Hudson, but I was shocked when I realized he was talking about Finn."

Kurt nodded. "Kids love him," he exclaimed, with a note of enthusiasm. “I have to admit that I always thought he was going to play football, or end up helping my dad in the garage, but after high school, he replaced Mr. Shue, working with the Glee Club for a while, and the rest is history. He started college to become a teacher the following year. It suits him ... strangely enough."

And Dave saw that glimmer of nostalgia in Kurt's eyes too, which he recognized easily because it was the same feeling he had. Kurt let out a sigh, blue eyes staring at the people in front of him, but not really focusing on anything. Dave studied his profile silently, noting how much more mature he looked.

"I'm sorry I didn't call you, David," Kurt whispered. “I wanted to, but it's still the same story… work, family. I'd like to find a better excuse, but I only have the bitter truth." He smiled faintly, the right side of his lips slightly curled. He looked at Dave, at the floor, and then at Dave again, trying to show with his eyes his disappointment and embarrassment.

Dave hurried to shake his head and return Kurt's shy smile with a more convincing one. "Don't worry. I didn't call you either ... for the same reason." He didn't really tell the truth. He avoided mentioning his emotional breakdown and the urge to listen to Kurt's voice. He blushed a little, hoping Kurt didn't notice.

"Now we're here," he said. "So we can start at this point and forget about this past week when we wanted to call each other, but didn't." Dave offered him his outstretched hand, solemnly, like at a business meeting. "I'm happy to see you again, Kurt."

The other chuckled a little more awkward and shy, and after a moment's hesitation he squeezed Dave's hand.

"I'm happy to see you again, too."

Kurt's hand was thinner and his skin incredibly soft, barely cold on his fingertips. Dave tried not to think this was the third time he'd been eagerly seeking that kind of contact with him.

It lasted just a few seconds, then they both returned to their safe distance.

“You know,” Kurt said, “It's really weird that Santana never told me you stayed friends. We see each other often, and you two seemed very close."

Dave couldn't help but nod firmly. He couldn't explain why Kurt's name had never slipped out of Santana's mouth or Brittany's in the last few years. He saw them quite often as well, even though Jeff thought Brittany was just too weird after the time she had done his make-up and did his hair up with pink ribbons and clips. He stroked his chin, and retraced some of the encounters he remembered best. He was sure the last time he heard of Kurt was around the time of his marriage to Blaine.

"Really strange," he concluded. "I would have expected that from Brittany, but it seems impossible that Santana didn't say anything,” Dave said.

They looked at each other, and exchanged a knowing glance. "Sounds like a movie plot," Kurt grinned.

Dave looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "Or an episode of _ Doctor Who _ ."

Without doing it on purpose, they both moved closer to each other. They conversed for a while, and Dave told Kurt that it was his restaurant that catered the event. Kurt showered him with compliments, expounding upon the many reasons that he enjoyed the hors d'oeuvres.

The atmosphere seemed relaxed and friendly until Kurt asked him one of the questions that Dave feared the most, the type that disguised its destructiveness by masquerading as normal conversation, kind of like when Dave had asked Kurt about Blaine.

“So you went back to Lima for a while. Why? Family matters?" Kurt seemed oblivious to Dave's sudden stiffening and the slight shaking of his knees. 

He swallowed several times. He didn't want to answer, but at the same time he preferred not to lie. Telling him about a breakup seemed reductive because, deep down where Dave was afraid to look, there was still a small part of him that hoped he had imagined everything over the past year and that Jeff would be at their apartment happily awaiting him at the end of the evening.

It was a nauseating thought that made him feel pathetic, but denying it would be like saying that water isn't wet or that grass isn't green.

He didn't know how to find the right words to explain it to Kurt without lying or sounding stupid.

Kurt looked at him questioningly, biting his lip. 

He tried to form the words in his mind. "It's a long story, actually," he began, not quite sure how to tell it. He was grateful that Kurt hadn't apologized for a possibly inappropriate question, because if he had, Dave would have felt even more compelled to tell him everything, just to avoid sounding rude.

Fortunately a short, middle-aged man with thinning hair appeared on the stage, wearing an elegant ocher suit. He tapped the microphone two or three times, and those present focused their attention on him. Even Kurt seemed to forget his curiosity, looking over his shoulder at the man.

Dave felt incredibly deeply relieved.

The man cleared his throat. "I’d like to ask our guests to take their seats. Thank you."

Dave looked at Kurt out of the corner of his eye and made eye contact. "Let's go?" He didn't ask him to sit next to him, but he implied it in his body language. Now that he had finally found some semblance of familiarity with him, Dave absolutely didn't want it to end too soon. Kurt seemed to have the same opinion. 

He nodded, and they decided to sit at one of the central tables. Dave took a seat between Kurt and an elderly lady with a purple fur coat and a large pearl necklace.

"I hope everything goes well," Dave confided in a low voice, with a slightly worried grimace. 

Kurt smiled at him, and crossed his fingers. He gestured to Tina, Artie, and Quinn, who were seated close to a nearby table. 

Dave realized that the Asian woman he had met upon his arrival was definitely Tina, and that the three were looking at him with a mixed expression of surprise and agitation. He tried to give them a short, not too strong smile, enough to assure them that Kurt was sitting next to him of his own accord, not because Dave had traced his steps and threatened him.

"Thanks for your attention," the man on the stage said, clearing his throat for the umpteenth time. “The person I want to introduce to you has marked a turning point in the world of interior design. She is only thirty-two, and she is from Lima, Ohio, where she was born and raised. In 2023, her team won the International Design Awards, a victory that led her to launch her agency, Posing Tails _ ,  _ this evening. A big round of applause for Brittany Pierce-Lopez!"

Dave stood up and cheered enthusiastically. Brittany was fantastic. He felt so proud of her and her work and had no doubt that she deserved to have all those people gathered to support her. Or more. A room a thousand times larger. He turned to Kurt, who too was clapping, and he saw that glint of pride in his eyes too.

Brittany appeared from behind the scenes, her dress resembling a ballerina's and her cheeks turning pink. She smoothed her skirt, perhaps to mask the slight tension that made her human.

"Oh, wow," she began. "There are so many of you.”

The public let out a laugh, and Dave relaxed because Brittany seemed born to be around people. Behind her, he saw Santana and raised a thumb in her direction.

“I want to thank you all from the bottom of my heart,” she said. “My wife Santana, my cat Tubby, who inspired me for the studio logo, and my friends, including David Karofsky and the Sea Pearl _ , _ who took care of the catering. I also want to send a hug to my family, which unfortunately got stuck in Lima due to a storm. Luckily my sister was somewhere else, and she is here with me tonight.” Brittany waved at her. "Hi, Heather."

Brittany smiled, and everyone turned to look at the young woman sitting at one of the tables facing the stage. Brittany continued, this time addressing everyone present. "I love you, all of you, and I want to thank you for giving up the latest episode of  _ Temptation Mountain _ to hear me speak and give me your support."

Another round of laughter.

Dave felt Kurt's light touch on his shoulder. "The appetizers were so good. Britt's thanks are totally deserved." 

Dave blushed, and Kurt winked at him.

Kurt was the most sophisticated person Dave has ever known. He absolutely had to tell Diego to add the appetizers to the restaurant menu.

“As a child, many people thought I was stupid,” Brittany said, bringing her face to the microphone with a tight-lipped smile. Maybe it still hurt her to say that word, Dave thought, even if the facts had proved that Brittany had a brilliant intelligence, albeit out of the ordinary.

"For a long time, I believed it. Because if something is said by so many people, it means that it is true, right?"

The audience fell silent, but Dave remained focused on Brittany. Her pastel pink lips and her long blonde hair. A beautiful woman, who had a heart too big for her own good. He wanted to run to the stage and hug her. He thought his feelings for her were as close to the affection between a brother and sister as would be allowed to someone who, like him, had grown up as an only child.

"Let me tell you, they were wrong." Dave smiled and saw Kurt nodding out of the corner of his eye. "Lord Tubbington," she said, holding her index finger up in respect. “He was a very intelligent cat, and he always believed in me. Even when I didn't believe in myself. During my senior year of high school I was offered the chance to attend MIT. They said I was a genius. But after some time there, I felt different, as if I had been in the wrong place all those months. I spent days surrounded by numbers, I received the compliments of everyone, but I felt I was no longer myself. Lord Tubbington and Santana knew this, and they pushed me to be a genius by doing something I really loved doing. And they were right. If I had stayed at MIT, I wouldn't be here with you right now."

Santana nodded behind Brittany, with a hand on her chest. Dave was sure she was whispering something in Spanish.

“Actually, I never thought I'd enter the world of interior design. As a child I spent days playing  _ The Sims _ , and Santana believed I had a natural talent for making kitsch look good,” she turned to her wife, smiling at her. “Santana preferred the part where Sims were drowned in the pool or were left to die surrounded by dirty dishes, but I loved decorating. I’d put a refrigerator in the bathroom, or a shower in the bedroom. When I was given a three-floor Barbie house when I was ten, I was so excited that I started making the furniture myself with modeling clay because the original ones were all the same color and style and seemed so boring to me."

This time everyone laughed, even the presenter took off his glasses and wiped his eyes.

“Despite everything, I thought it was just a hobby, one of those passions that would disappear with age. Like painting eggshells or filling Lord Tubbington's bowl with glitter. Until I finished my first real design job, and then I understood that was what I was born to do. It was for two of my friends, two guys I loved who had decided to get an apartment together after spending several months dating.”

Dave and Kurt simultaneously turn to each other. 

"She's not talking about ..." Kurt's eyes got wide, and from the slant of his lips he looked like he was about to burst into laughter. 

Dave nodded, because he knew what Brittany was talking about, and who.

“I thought rainbows were a perfect metaphor for their relationship, so I put rainbows in every corner of the apartment. Lionel, can you show it to the guests? " Brittany nodded to the man in the ocher suit, who used a remote.

After a few seconds, the screen behind Brittany showed a bed with purple, indigo, blue, green, yellow, orange and red striped pillowcases. It was so flamboyant, it hurt the eyes. Each side of the bed had three pillows, one on top of the other. Above it was a huge painting in the same rainbow hues, but more abstract, with a spiral design.

"Oh shit, where can I hide?" Dave said to himself quietly, looking around, worried that someone might understand that he was the one who lived in that monstrosity. 

Fortunately, the guests were too busy gawking at how ugly the apartment was rather than wondering who owned it. Only Kurt knew. And... Santana. Well, there were also Sue Sylvester and Rachel Berry, but they weren't anywhere in sight.

Dave met Santana's gaze and was greeted by a sarcastic grin and a wink. Oh yes, she knew it well. Dave covered his face with his hands, as if he could erase even the memory of those rainbows from his mind, while Kurt laughed softly, as if trying to restrain himself. 

“Could you really live there? Blaine has always had a… no particular fondness for color matching, but what about you, David?"

If he was going to be honest, Dave had found it funny at the time. He had taken dozens of photos, as if he were in an amusement park attraction. The intimate moments with Blaine had gotten more ... awkward, though. Because Dave couldn't stop thinking he was in the middle of Pride. “I have never been as happy as when I sub-leased that apartment. To another gay couple, actually. One of them worked in a BDSM club, while the other was the owner of a charity in favor of gay rights. They thought it was the best furnished apartment in the world. I couldn't believe it." 

Kurt laughed even more heartily, using his hand to muffle the noise.

Dave liked his laugh, even though the feeling reminded him of being 17 and having a crush on Kurt.

Brittany giggled too, after showing photos of each room in the apartment. 

Dave had forgotten about removing all the rainbow-themed paintings scattered around the rooms. Even the bathroom had its share of unicorns holding the toilet paper and pink clouds dancing on the ceiling. Kurt had his hand on Dave’s shoulder, using it for support. For a moment, Dave felt like he couldn’t catch his breath.

"I never thought I'd find this story funny, but now I find it downright hilarious." Despite the embarrassment, Dave was happy that Kurt didn't hold a grudge against him for his relationship with Blaine.

Brittany spoke up again. “I know it's not… my best work, but it opened a door for me. Years later, I decorated my sister's apartment, and the first house I bought with Santana, in Los Angeles."

The screen showed various angles of a living room and bedroom. The result was better than the apartment Dave shared with Blaine, but only slightly. Dave saw polka dot wallpaper, pop-up paintings, strange statues with a horse's body and a bird's face. It was all Brittany’s style, but that didn't make it any less terrible.

“I realized that I have a gift, and I knew that this gift would help me make people happy. This pushed me to continue, to improve. After Lord Tubbington's death, I promised myself that I would become the best, to honor his memory. I think I made it. What do you think?"

Brittany showed images from a study. Brittany's particular style remained. It could be seen it in every corner, but somehow ... it worked. Dave gasped in the perfect combination of colors of a mural depicting a tiger, of the labyrinthine arrangement of various bookcases scattered around the room, and of a stone desk surrounded by exotic plants, which created a play of lights that recalled the interior of a cave. Taken individually, all those elements would have been over the top, but joined together they seemed something out of a dream.

“With this work, I won the International Design Awards. It was a surprise for me too. I was inspired by my way of perceiving reality. Sometimes it's a bit confusing, but it never stops to amaze me. Of course, it wasn't just me who did it, but also my fantastic team. I want to thank Mark, Sachiko, Lana, and Hassad. Without you, I wouldn't have been able to get this far."

The audience stood up, giving Brittany a standing ovation. A bunch of younger guys, who Dave assumed to be Brittany's team, yelled her name as if they were in a sports stadium. Dave smiled at Kurt and Kurt smiled back at Dave before they refocused their attention back on their blonde friend, who seemed to have tear-filled eyes. It was her big day, and Dave couldn't help but be happy to be a part of it. Having Kurt around was definitely a bonus.

Before stepping offstage and throwing herself into her sister's arms, Brittany introduced the logo of her new agency. A large sleeping cat, whose long tail spiraled. In white letters, it was possible to read the name of the agency, while the background was embellished with two feline footprints. Dave was sure Brittany was inspired by Tubby.

Shortly before the presentation ended, Brittany answered some of the questions from those present. She behaved very professionally, while still remaining herself.

Later, Dave was surrounded by Quinn, Tina, and Artie, who pummeled him with questions about his life. He avoided talking about Jeff, reducing it all to being single for nearly a year, and distracted them from the subject by telling them about the restaurant and his meeting with Finn in Lima. He knew Artie had directed a few episodes of the series Santana worked on, but was surprised to learn that Quinn was a prominent photographer, and Tina had two divorces behind her.

Kurt retreated to a quieter place and Dave noticed him talking on the phone. He studied his affectionate smile and deduced that his daughter Tracy was on the other end of the line.

Dave was distracted by Tina and had to remind her that he was gay when she tried to make some weird proposition, stroking his arm. She seemed a lot more drunk than necessary.

Finally, Kurt went back to them. “I really have to go. Tracy can't sleep if I don't read her something.”

Dave found the way Kurt pronounced his little girl's name really sweet, as if it were something beautiful and enchanting.

Tina hugged Kurt a little longer than needed, promising him they'd meet soon, while Quinn respected his personal space, kissing both of his cheeks but barely touching him. Artie lived in New York, so he only used a wave of his hand and a "good bye".

After giving them a few moments of privacy, Dave dug deep for some courage and walked over to Kurt.

"Would it be okay if I walked you out?"

If he had to be honest, he expected rejection. Not because Kurt hadn't been nice to him over the last few hours. They had talked, sat side by side, and more than once he had felt Kurt's touch on his shoulder. Dave, for his part, had responded kindly and  openly . He had only had a little trouble when Kurt asked him about Lima. Yet he was still afraid of being rejected by him, even though so many years had passed.

Kurt smiled softly at him. "Sure. Thanks," he said.

Dave still had that slight feeling of butterflies in his stomach he had felt even shortly before Brittany's speech began.

Together, they walked to the hall, and Kurt shocked him because he hadn't brought anything warmer to wear. He wanted to say something, but he knew they weren't friends, not yet, and that kind of behavior would be inappropriate.

"So ..." he began, blushing visibly. "Would you like to go out for that coffee this weekend?"

Kurt seemed oblivious to how much effort it costest Dave to ask that question and shook his head. “This weekend is our family time, if Blaine actually decides to show up." He rolled his eyes. "Tracy really wants to go to the cinema to see  _ Frozen 3 _ ."

"Oh," Dave hid his disappointment with a smile. He was happy that Kurt and Blaine could spend time with their little girl, but at the same time he would like at least an hour with Kurt.

He realized that he really, really cared about it.

"How about Monday?" Kurt said. “I have the day off. Have you ever been to the Golden Donut _? _ The desserts are really good."

Dave laughs, shaking his head. "No, never, but with a name like that I wouldn't doubt it." He was happy, more so than he ever expected. "And Monday is fine. It's perfect."

"You won’t regret it. Would noon work? I can text you the address." Kurt winked at him. 

Dave finds himself smiling like a fool, nodding. "That’d be great."

He walked with Kurt out of the hotel, where he walked up to a waiting cab. "It's stopped raining," Kurt said, amazed, staring up at the now clear sky.

The smell of rain was still in the air, and it was pleasant. Even the cold had subsided.

Dave said good night to Kurt and walked back into the hall, a smile painted on his lips.


	7. Chapter 7

Blaine arrived on Saturday at lunchtime. He decided to grab something quick with Kurt and Tracy at a fast food restaurant. Tracy drew hearts on the hamburger wrapper using the fries as pencils and the ketchup as ink. She asked a lot of questions about Blaine's tour and wanted to see all the photographs. Kurt and Blaine didn't have much time to talk because they spent their time listening to Tracy tell them about her friends in kindergarten, and how excited she was about the evening they were going to spend together at the cinema.

Kurt knew those stories by heart, but he could listen to her for hours.

**

The lights in the theater came back on after the movie was over, and Tracy grabbed Blaine's sweater, yanking him. “Elsa and Ingrid are so cute, Papa. They’re my favorite couple!" She chuckled and put the last piece of popcorn into her mouth.

Blaine shook his head. "I thought your favorite couple was Anna and Kristoff."

Kurt raised an eyebrow in Blaine's direction and took a sip of Diet Coke, then brought his face close to Tracy's until the tips of their noses touched. "Both couples are cute, aren't they?" he joked.

The little girl nodded with conviction. "But the cutest of them all is ..." 

They both exclaimed, "Olaf!" and burst out laughing.

Kurt and Tracy seemed to share the same thoughts, as if they had a special mental connection. A few looks were enough, and they both instantly understood what the other meant. Kurt was the responsible, rational parent. He looked after Tracy full time, cooked for her, taught her to read and write - the opposite of Blaine, who loved to ply her with gifts and be the fun dad. No amount of money could buy the devotion and attention that Kurt consistently gave her - a steadfast love deeper than Blaine’s wallet.

Tracy had insisted on spending that Saturday night at the cinema despite having seen the movie with Kurt the week before. It was unnerving how quickly the weekend was flying by,  causing Kurt to be anxious in advance, thinking about how Tracy's joy wouldn't last because Blaine would be gone Monday morning.

"Do you have to go to the bathroom before we go home?" Kurt asked.

Tracy flushed a little. "Yes. No. Maybe?"

Blaine laughed. "Better do everything before getting in the taxi," he told her. "I'll go with you." He grabbed Tracy's hand and walked out of the room with her hopping happily alongside.

Kurt took the opportunity to put on his jacket. He held Tracy's pink one under his arm. He rolled his eyes when he noticed that Blaine had left everything crumpled in the chair, an open, half-empty bag of gummies, the cups, and the popcorn bucket. He picked them up and smoothed his suit. He pocketed the candy, threw the rest, and walked down the hall.

In the lobby, Kurt walked over to the kiosk and took a look at the  _ Frozen 3 _ merchandise. Elsa, Anna, and Olaf keychains, an album for stickers, various Sven plushies, and books with Elsa and Ingrid lost in each other's gaze on the covers.

"We're back," Blaine said, his hand still gripping Tracy's. 

They stepped into the kiosk together. Kurt followed them in.

Blaine pointed out an Elsa dress. “That would be fun for Halloween.”

“Daddy’s already making me a much prettier Elsa dress.” She broke free to hug Kurt, and then continued to look around curiously.

"Daddy, will you buy it for me?" she asked Kurt, pointing to an old-fashioned style metal lunchbox with a glittery handle with Olaf's cute face on the front. 

Kurt put a hand on his hip. “You already have a similar one, and you use it to store crayons and colored pencils. I think I found a chewing gum inside it once."

Kurt could see that Blaine was itching to buy the lunchbox for her, but he could see the resolve on his face to stay out of it, more likely due to not wanting to hear another lecture from Kurt about him sweeping into town and buying her love than any other reason.

Kurt used to gloss over these kinds of attitudes, but his new therapist, Dr. Meyer, had coldly and clinically exposed his relationship with Blaine from the very beginning and told him bluntly that Blaine was too focused on himself, he always had been, and that Kurt was still just as addicted to their relationship as he had been at seventeen. Not in a romantic way, but an addiction was still an addiction. It had given him goosebumps, having to nod when Dr. Meyer asked him if he still made excuses for Blaine to Tracy and if he still felt the desperate need for Blaine to interact with him personally and not just Tracy.

Kurt had been asked to list ten  aspects of Blaine’s personality that he wasn't willing to live with, and Blaine always pandering to everyone in order to appear perfect was in the top five. Blaine was constantly trying to be better than Kurt, and often their relationships turned into a game of "fun dad" and "spoilsport dad". Blaine had charisma, and he knew how to use words, while Kurt inevitably ended up in the background. He had learned to accept it, to pretend that Blaine acted that way without being aware of it, but he knew by now that he had just avoided looking at reality. They had talked about it, and Kurt had assured Blaine that he would not tolerate such behavior towards Tracy.

Blaine had tried to make excuses, but was eventually convinced. At least he said he was.

Kurt knew how much it cost him not to wave his credit card just to please Tracy and be the cool father.

Tracy pouted and stared at him with wide eyes, like a puppy looking for an extra petting. “I need it, Daddy. Please. Sarah has one just like it." She grabbed Kurt's hand, batting her eyes. "The one with crayons in it is a lot smaller. Too small to hold a whole lunch. I promise to use it, and to keep it clean, and be good and eat everything in it, and to go to bed early."

“You don’t need to go to bed any earlier, but I would like your word that if I get it, you’ll help pack it every evening. You’re the one that wants to take your lunch instead of eating what’s served at school. You’ll have to be the one to put the time in to make a good lunch each evening.”

He pulled out his wallet. "You’re sure you want to devote some of your evening to preparing lunch for yourself?”

“Yes! Yes!”

The saleswoman smiled at them as Tracy jumped happily and hugged Kurt around the waist. 

"Thank you, Daddy." She grabbed the lunchbox and turned it over in her little hands, poking the plastic with her finger. She tried to open the package without attracting too much attention.

"How about we open it together at home?" Blaine whispered in her ear, kissing her cheek. 

She nodded, her face  a little guilty for not waiting like she knew she was supposed to, but the look swiftly changed to a self-congratulatory smile, full of pride for being declared “big enough” to do something on her own. “I can’t wait to pack my lunch tonight.”

**

On their way back in the taxi, Tracy sat between the two of them and fell asleep quickly lulled by the noise of the traffic, with her present clutched to her chest and a trickle of saliva wetting the corner of her lips.

Kurt ruffled her hair and focused on Blaine, who was texting on his cellphone.

"Look," Blaine said, showing the contents of the text to Kurt. “It's from Rachel. It looks like Aaron has finally learned how to properly smile."

Kurt took the phone from his hands and stroked the display with his finger, chuckling under his breath at the sight of the chubby little face and still toothless smile of Rachel and Jesse's little son. "It won't be long before this photo makes the rounds of social media."

Kurt wanted to look at it for a while longer, while it was still private.

Blaine nodded and hugged Tracy. "Knowing Rachel, I’d be surprised if this isn’t already on Instagram."

Kurt missed Blaine, but whenever they were close he was afraid of his emotions, like an ex-alcoholic forced to spend the evening in a bar. He was afraid of letting his guard down too much and falling into a mistake that would be too difficult to fix.

**

That Sunday morning, Tracy was the first to wake up.

Kurt flipped their usual roles when she came to get him out of bed, begging her to let him sleep a few more minutes. While completely ignoring his pleas, she tickled his sides and tugged at his arm.

Kurt stood up with a yawn and met Blaine at the kitchen doorway. Blaine's eyes were still sleepy, his hair was messy, and he wore a robe over his pajamas. In his hands he held a large cup of steaming coffee.

“I made breakfast. Blueberry pancakes."

"Did she wake you up too?" Kurt laughed, rubbing his eyes. He took a carton of fruit juice from the pantry. He poured some into Tracy's favorite mug.

Blaine nodded, rubbing his cheek and trying to appear more awake than he was. "We promised to take her to Central Park," he said. “Although, to tell the truth, I would like to sleep until noon." He took another sip of coffee and sat down on the table using his elbow as a support, dozing a little. To stay awake, he glanced at his cellphone. “I have three interviews next week. I had to cancel a radio talk show, and Rachel still hasn't forgiven me. I also turned down a role as an extra for Katy Perry's new video. It was just four seconds, though. It's not much, but she has always been one of my favorite singers. This tour is killing me."

Kurt rolled his eyes and shook his head. He felt like laughing. Blaine could talk about himself for hours, and Kurt wondered how he'd been able to handle it for so many years. After the divorce, every conversation Blaine had a _ bout _ himself had morphed in his head into a continuous "blah blah blah", much like Charlie Brown’s teacher. He ran a hand through his hair, pushing a lock away from his eyes as he finished setting up the table.

"So," Blaine said, cutting the pancakes into small pieces for Tracy. "How's your job?"

Kurt sat across from Blaine, digging his fork into the neat stack of pancakes. He told Blaine how much he loved working with Isabelle, and how Maddie was a constant presence in his office and private life. Blaine didn't interrupt him very often, surprisingly. He nodded and let out a few comments on the way. He expressed a desire to meet Madeleine and laughed when Kurt told him about her crush on Quinn.

They were only interrupted by the arrival of Tracy, who trotted towards them already fully dressed.

**

Kurt walked at a slow pace through the blaze of falling orange leaves that were carried by a warmer than expected breeze for the season. He took off his gloves and stowed them safely in his jacket pocket.

He whispered the words of “New York, New York”, watching the dance of the leaves and hearing the crunch of dry twigs under his shoes.

He remembered how much he once loved singing, and how that dream of his had been locked away in a drawer that he rarely opened - just when he improvised something for Tracy.

Blaine helped Tracy stay balanced on her red bicycle, but she kept skidding left and right, perhaps on purpose. Blaine had forced her to wear a protective helmet, although Tracy had insisted she didn't need one.

The night before, Kurt had struggled to fall asleep and wondered if his addiction to Blaine's friendship, even if it didn't concern Tracy directly, was out of place.

Dr. Meyer was right - Blaine didn't need him, and he hardly ever called him just to hear his voice. A short Google search was enough to find out how much he loved the worldly life, and how many friends he surrounded himself with.

Friends whose names Kurt didn’t even know.

Unlike him, Kurt spent most of his time at work and with Tracy. The only people he had a stable friendship with were Maddie, Brittany, and Santana. He rarely saw Artie. He only talked with Sam, Mercedes, and Finn occasionally. Adam had returned to England in 2021, and their contact had become increasingly sporadic.

Kurt cursed himself, knowing that he hadn't kept that friendship like he would have liked to in order to not irritate Blaine and to avoid unnecessary arguments.

Even two years after he got divorced, Blaine knew who Kurt was friends with because Kurt still told him everything.

If he could, he would have banged his head against a tree.

Suddenly, his desire to sing disappeared.

**

Tracy grabbed some crumbs of bread, and a duck approached her, pecking greedily and then hurrying away. She pointed at it, turning to Kurt. "Daddy, can we take it home?"

Kurt put half a sandwich in her hand and smiled tenderly at that request "Do you remember that time we found that injured bird on the balcony of our flat?"

She nodded and took a big bite followed by a groan of appreciation. "Charlie," she smiled, remembering the flightless sparrow she nurtured last summer.

"Charlie," Kurt repeated, "right." He grabbed a chocolate chip cookie he'd bought at Tracy's favorite bakery and ate a small piece of it. "We often love someone very much, but for that very reason we have to let them go because otherwise they would be unhappy."

Tracy listened to him playing with her braids, an interested expression painted on her face. "He flew up very high, but then he never came back," she said, sighing.

Seeing a streak of sadness in her gaze, Kurt caresses her knee. “He was free and happy, like this duck when it swims with its friends. That’s why we can't take it home with us. You understand, don't you?"

Blaine interrupted the conversation. "But we can give it a name."

Tracy put a hand to her chin, thoughtfully. "I think it's a girl." She smiled. "Daisy. Is it cute enough, Papa? " She sat cross-legged on the grass, completely ignoring the picnic tablecloth Kurt had spread out.

"Very cute," Blaine smiled.

She lay her head on his lap. She lifted one leg, then the other, as if following the rhythm of a song that no one else could hear. She finished the sandwich and wiped the crumbs off her jacket with her hand. They all ended up on Blaine's pants, and Kurt couldn't help but grin.

"Daddy," Tracy asked Kurt, amused, "do you think there is a translator for ducks?"

Kurt pretended to be thoughtful. "I don't know. It's hard to say. Perhaps the  _ quack quack _ is a coded language. Maybe they talk about important things, and they don't want to be heard." He brought his index finger to his lips, as if he were sharing a secret.

Tracy laughed heartily. " _ Quack quack _ ," she repeated.

Kurt lay down on the tablecloth beside her.

Blaine tickled her palms and used the crumbs to lure an approaching group of ducks that seemed strangely brave. " _ Quack quack." _

A duck looked like it was answering him back, and Tracy tried to figure out what it meant.

They spent the afternoon imitating the ducks and imagining a world populated by talking animals.

**

When Kurt walked into Tracy's room that night, Blaine was holding her in his arms while she cried on his shoulder.

Hearing those sobs, Kurt's heart stopped in his chest. He shivered, worried that Tracy was crying because she wanted Blaine to stay longer.

He sat on his knees next to the two, close to a handful of dolls and the  _ Frozen _ castle for which Kurt himself had sewn curtains and decorations. 

Tracy looked at him and sniffed. "We ... we hurt Olaf."

Kurt took the toy from her hands as Blaine stroked her back, trying to comfort her.

"While we were playing, Olaf fell from the third floor of the castle, and his carrot didn't survive," Blaine confirmed.

Kurt felt immediately relieved. His anxiety had made him imagine worst-case scenarios, where a desperate Tracy had asked Blaine not to leave the next morning and to spend the whole week with her.

It would have been terrible to have to tell her it wasn't possible.

Kurt relaxed his shoulders. “We’ll fix it tomorrow. Olaf will be as good as new."

"Or we can buy a new one," Blaine said. “So you'll have a spare one if it breaks again. It's not fun to play without Olaf."

Kurt closed his eyes and counted to ten. He felt like arguing back, but he preferred not to spoil the moment.

Blaine put aside any teaching necessary for Tracy's emotional growth, preferring the more convenient tactic of placating.

It always worked, especially with a five year old girl.

Once again, Kurt had remained silent rather than having a conversation with Blaine that would have been unpleasant for the both of them. It was a habit that was difficult to break free from, and one that he  struggled with whenever he and Blaine were in the same space.

"Yes!" she exclaimed as Kurt rolled his eyes, unnoticed. "Can we get it tomorrow?"

Blaine looked at her with a discouraged smile, like someone forced to break bad news. "Next week. I promise." He met Kurt's eye and bit his lip, as if to apologize for falling into the same bad habit again.

Kurt shrugged and smiled faintly, knowing that Blaine had at least noticed the mistake.

For dinner, they had eaten vegetarian lasagna and Tracy had eaten a few too many leftover cookies from their picnic.

"Do you still feel too full?" Kurt asked Tracy, avoiding mulling over his aggravation.

Tracy rubbed her stomach, muttering. "Not so much."

"Well, next time I think maybe two cookies instead of four would be a better choice. What do you think about reading a book and going to sleep?" Kurt picked up the dolls from the floor and carefully deposited them in the pink basket that she used for the toys she liked the most. He put Olaf aside along with his broken nose, promising himself that he would make him look good again.

Tracy showed them one of her books,  _ Snow White _ , which Kurt hadn't read to her in months. He thought the evil witch still gave her nightmares.

“Can you read it to me? With the voices?" she asked them, once again using her big, dark, and hopeful eyes, which made it impossible to say no to her.

Kurt softened, as he saw Blaine's expression melt for her. "Okay, okay," he replied, with a chuckle.

Kurt brushed her teeth while Blaine kept them company. Tracy splashed water on their clothes, amused. Kurt combed her hair, and Blaine helped her into her pajamas. It was nice to see that sometimes they still managed to act as a team.

They made jokes together, and Kurt had to admit that Blaine was a great evil witch. Tracy pretended to be scared by covering her face with her hands.

Blaine fell asleep next to her shortly after finishing the book. Kurt saw his eyes struggle to stay open and then finally close with one last yawn.

Kurt gave him and Tracy one last look before going to bed.

Blaine was curled up on Tracy's bed, the book still in his hand. Their foreheads barely touched, and she sported a relaxed smile.

It wasn't hard to imagine that once, long ago, Kurt had imagined growing old with him, that he had let himself be fooled by that apparent sweetness and those moments of ephemeral joy.

He lay down on his bed, ready for another troubled night.

He had hidden the photos of his wedding with Blaine in the back of the closet because he was unable to throw them away. He kept them together with his McKinley yearbook, his prom queen crown, and his old engagement ring.

He thought that if those objects were out of his sight they wouldn't hurt him, but the lump in his throat he felt was telling him he had been wrong.

He still had a lot of work to do on himself.

He fell asleep shortly after that, imagining Snow White eating the poisoned apple, unaware of how jealousy lurked behind the mask of fragility. How harmless evil could appear.

**

On Monday morning, Kurt woke up early, feeling exhausted. He wore a pair of comfortable pants and a white t-shirt that he used as pajamas in the summer.

Silence still reigned in the flat. He opened the balcony and took a deep breath of the fresh morning air, pleasantly surprised by the warm-toned beauty of the first light of dawn.

It had been a fun weekend, and he was happy Tracy had been able to spend time with Blaine. His internal conflict was always the same - one part of him wanted Blaine to stay longer, while the other was relieved to get back to his usual routine.

He shrugged, knowing it didn't really matter. Blaine had told him several times about his need to be in Los Angeles before dinner.

He went into the kitchen and made coffee and toast.

Blaine woke up shortly after. He was still wearing yesterday's clothes, which were now all wrinkled. He still hadn't stopped wearing those too-short pants that seemed an insult to good taste and fashion.

“'Morning,” he said, scratching his head. “I fell asleep on Tracy's bed. Everything hurts. I think we should consider a new mattress."

Kurt offered him coffee and breakfast. “The mattress is fine, but it's a twin bed for kids, not a supportive bed for an adult. What did you expect?"

Blaine grabbed his cellphone. "Maybe I was just really tired and missed sleeping on a foam-top mattress." He laughed. “Tomorrow I have a lot of stuff to do. It's crazy. I have to tell  _ Nadine _ to stop with these hectic schedules."

It was incredibly annoying, the way Blaine pronounced his assistant's name. As if it were one of those offensive words to say quietly.

He wanted to argue how much Blaine loved all those commitments, and how he was constantly seeking the spotlight for himself, but Blaine would deny the obvious, and Kurt had no desire to hear him blame poor Nadine for the umpteenth time.

He decided to let Blaine handle his problems without his help and went to wake Tracy up.

**

In the car, Tracy sat in the backseat curled up against Blaine. Kurt stared at them in the rearview mirror, heartbroken.

Tracy glanced out the window and knew she had arrived at kindergarten. "I don't want to go," she protested. "I want to go with Papa on the plane."

"Be good," Blaine replied. "We can talk a little bit tonight, before bed."

"Video chat?" she asked. "I want to show you my drawings."

"Tracy did a portrait of you," Kurt said, knowing that being made aware of that would prompt Blaine to call her. "Of you singing on stage."

Blaine broke into a smile. "Then definitely a video chat, yes."

Tracy nodded, still sad but with a slight twinkle in her eye. Kurt hoped that Blaine would actually call her, that those weren't just  empty  words.

They both kissed her cheek, and she walked towards the entrance with her _Frozen_ backpack on her shoulders. Sarah came to meet her and grabbed her hand, swinging their hands in an arc cheerfully as they walked inside.

"You're doing a good job with her, Kurt," Blaine whispered in a low voice, watching the two girls disappearing into the school door. 

The scent of Tracy still permeated his clothes, the feel of her soft cheek still lingered on his lips. 

Kurt was always caught off guard by Blaine’s praise. It always came out of the blue and infrequently enough to make hearing it fill him with a warm feeling. It had an addictive quality to it, which until this moment he had never considered. 

He was about to reply, but Blaine continued. “I wouldn’t be happy being a full-time father like you are, and I don't think it would be a good idea in the long run."

Kurt snorted, but was pleasantly surprised that Blaine was able to say those words without making excuses, as he always had before.  A few minutes later the words slid into place, and he pieced the meaning together. Blaine was subtly making it clear that he didn’t want Tracy to stay with him for an extended period of time at his place in LA.

**

They walked into Starbucks, and the place seemed oddly  un crowded. Kurt ordered a pumpkin spice latte, and Blaine a hot chocolate and a donut.  He placed  his small wheeled suitcase near the counter, while they waited. Blaine grabbed his pink donut covered in sugar off the tray and took a bite on the way to a table. He licked his fingers before he sat down.

"So ..." Blaine began, after wiping his lips with a napkin. "How did Brittany's party go?"

Kurt thought back to that night, that strange reunion. It had been a journey back into the past that had ended in a very unexpected way. "It was interesting. Brittany  always gives her best, so I had no doubt it was going to be amazing. She has a natural talent. Did you know that Tina got divorced for the second time?" Kurt took a sip of his  latte , but set the cup back on the table when he noticed it was still too hot.

Blaine nodded with a chuckle. "Yup. We talk from time to time. Or should I say that she’s the one who fills me with texts. I thought this time her marriage would last."

Kurt bit his lip. "It's difficult when your relationship is based on cheating." He said it quietly, certain that Blaine hadn't heard him. 

Next to them was a mother who was cradling a baby in the midst of a crying fit.

"I think Tina should spend some time alone, try to connect with herself for once."

_ Oh, _ Kurt thought. _ A wise Blaine. _ That was really new.

"You're right," he said, resting his head on his elbow. “But I kind of understand her reasons. Who wouldn't want to find true love? Brittany and Santana are lucky."

Blaine nodded, his eyes distant, perhaps a little melancholy. "I thought it would work between us." He blocked Kurt's attempt to answer. “I know it's my fault. My therapist repeated it to me ad nauseam. I was looking for excuse after excuse to tell her that both of us were to blame, but in the end I  finally came to terms with it. It ended between us because my behavior wasn't ... appropriate and you got hurt."

Kurt wanted to ask him if he really meant it or if he was reciting a script from memory. He realized that he couldn't trust him. Not yet.

The scars from their years together still hurt and haunted him, and he was sure he couldn't get over them so easily. If it wasn't for Tracy, Kurt knew he would have permanently ended all contact with Blaine to start a new life and never look back. Having a daughter together didn't make that possible, and he often felt trapped.

"I appreciate you being able to admit it," Kurt said, not looking him in the eye. He didn't want to talk about that subject. “Anyway… Quinn was at the party. I hadn't seen her in a long time, and she looked amazing. Oh, and I saw David again. Who would have thought he was friends with Brittany and Santana?" He finished his latte . "We decided to meet for coffee today at lunchtime."

Blaine looked at him, confused. “David? Which David?"

“David Karofsky. I didn't even know he was in New York, but we ran into each other recently. I found out that he owns a restaurant. He was at Brittany's party, so it was a double surprise."

Blaine finished his hot  chocolate , smiling. “Such a small world. I haven't heard from him in years. I hope he's all right."

“He thought we were still married. I don't understand how he could have been friends with Brittany and Santana and not have heard anything about all that mess."

Blaine shrugged. His chocolate-smeared lips made him look much younger, and Kurt was tempted to take a picture. "I guess we've gotten too old for gossip." 

It was weird that Blaine was talking about their age when to Kurt he still looked like he  was in college . "It's a bit sad, isn't it?"

"Maybe a little," Blaine admitted. “But I'm glad to be here, talking to you, despite everything we've been through."

Kurt tried to say something, but was interrupted by the presence of two teen girls dressed in baggy sweaters and with bags full of books over their shoulder. One of them held her cellphone with a pink case in her hand, while the other stood behind her, and Kurt could barely see her. They couldn't have been more than fourteen.

"Bla-Blaine Anderson?"

Kurt saw Blaine sporting his best smile and tried not to laugh at the fact that he still had the corners of his lips stained with chocolate. He handed Blaine a napkin.

Blaine used it quickly to wipe his mouth. "That's me." He smiled broadly.

The girl hiding behind her friend blushed, and Kurt guessed she wanted to say something but was too shy to do so.

"My name is Kat, and this is Nancy," the girl at the front said, trying to sound confident. Kurt could see her knees shake a little. “We are big fans of yours. Can we take a picture together?"

She extended her hand, which held the phone firmly. 

Blaine nodded several times, never losing his smile. He faked a moment of shyness, but Kurt knew how much he lived for these moments.

"Absolutely. No problem." He carefully grabbed the phone from the girl's hand and offered it to Kurt. "Could you take a picture of us?"

Kurt looked first at Blaine, then at the two girls. The more timid one seemed to have found some courage. She grabbed her friend's arm and looked at Blaine as if he were everything she'd ever dreamed of.

Kurt wanted to say something, to rediscover the sassy teenager he once was before he'd lost it with age, but the hopeful look of the  teen girls convinced him to restrain himself. Whatever he would say wasn't going to change Blaine's behavior, and he didn't want to ruin the moment for these girls.

"Sure," he said, not taking his eyes off Blaine, trying to get through the interruption as quickly as possible.

Blaine didn't seem to be aware of Kurt's annoyance at being his photographer, and he looked like a kid in a toy store. He flashed his toothy smile and put his arm around Kat’s waist, who was standing on his right, while Nancy stood stiff as a board to his left. Kurt snapped the photo, two to be exact, and handed the phone back to its owner.

They watched the teens go hopping away and giggling to each other. Blaine finally finished his donut. He looked at his watch, giving up on ordering one of the tempting cinnamon rolls he had been sneaking glances at that were selling like hot cakes.

“I really have to go. I can't risk missing my flight." He buttoned up his jacket, and grabbed his suitcase handle to extend it.

"You remember you promised to call, right?" Kurt reminded him. "I don't know what your plans are for Halloween, but if you don’t think you can be in New York, you better tell Tracy right away instead of waiting."

Blaine nodded. 

Kurt wasn't sure he was really listening to him. 

“Yes, I told you. I’ll do my best." He buttoned his jacket, and gave Kurt a short hug, which he didn't return. "Talk to you tonight."

"Okay," Kurt replied. "Say hello to Rachel, and tell her to call.”

Blaine made his way through a group of high school kids to hail a taxi to the airport, and  Kurt went back to his car.

**

The Golden Donut was Tracy's favorite café , and for that reason Kurt loved going there with her for breakfast or on the weekend. The place's mascot was really cute, and it didn't seem hard to imagine that it could have a special place in the heart of a little girl about Tracy's age. It was the statue of a white rabbit in a pink dress and two large oven mitts, holding a tray covered with dozens of donuts between its paws. Tracy always asked him to take her picture as she grabbed its long, white ears.

The atmosphere was reminiscent of an old bakery, and Kurt stopped by the window, admiring a row of pumpkin-shaped cupcakes and adorable Halloween-themed cookies. He absolutely had to remember to buy something for Tracy.

He walked in through the glass door and saw Dave sitting at one of the center tables. Dave didn't notice him and was turning the pages of the menu with interest. He was still wearing his jacket, so Kurt figured he hadn’t been there for long.

Kurt approached him. "Hey." He smiled gently and took off his scarf, placing it on the back of a pink upholstered Parisian Bistro-style chair.

Dave looked up and smiled back. "Hey."

Kurt took a seat facing him. "I hope you haven't been waiting for long."

As if he were suddenly more comfortable, Dave finally took off his dark brown leather jacket, revealing  a cream plaid flannel shirt with thick vertical and horizontal lines of warm sienna along with thinner lines of burnt orange and golden wheat creating the pattern . The shirt fit well, as did the  dark khaki chinos he had on. His brown leather boots were similar in color to his jacket. Kurt noticed that his wardrobe had improved drastically from  the oversized polo shirts and baggy jeans that Dave had worn in high school.  He looked mature and comfortable with himself in a way that Kurt never had seen him.

"No," Dave replied, shaking his head. "I just got here." He showed Kurt the menu - a couple of photographs of a sugar-coated chocolate souffle and some bear, cat, and rabbit-shaped macaroons. "I don't know how you found this place, but I don't think I've ever seen anything cuter in my entire life."

Kurt laughed because he never imagined that Dave Karofsky was the type to get excited about cute sweets. Over the weekend, he had thought about changing the place where they would meet because he didn't want to make David uncomfortable with all the pink.

“The benefits of having a five-year-old daughter,” he said, remembering how adorably guilty Tracy felt about eating anything in the shape of an animal. “You should try the  apple pie with caramel sauce . It's very good."

He pointed out the page featuring the dessert and grinned as he watched him lick his lips.

"I think I'll take your advice."

They ordered two  cups of tea , and Kurt chose an apple spice cake donut with a white chocolate glaze and crumbled gingersnaps on top. It was one of the specialty seasonal donuts, and Kurt decided to indulge himself.

"How was your weekend?" Kurt asked, figuring this was the easiest way to start a conversation.

Dave's face lit up at the sight o f the amazing slice of pie , but he tamped down his reaction soon after, perhaps not to look weird or childish. “Busy - I think that's the best word. On Saturday night, we had the entire restaurant reserved for an 18-year-old's birthday party. I haven't seen so many teenagers in years. I didn't remember how noisy they could be. One of them stood on a chair and started dancing." 

They both laughed, and Kurt imagined the scene. It seemed impossible to have been that age, even if he had never acted that way. 

"I swear, there wasn't even alcohol."

Dave took a sip of the  tea and tasted  the pie , letting it slip how good it was  with a faint moan .

"I think that's how I always imagined Puck behaving." He chuckled as he bit his donut. 

Dave nodded profusely. “Oh, we had our fair share of parties with the other guys at McKinley, and Puck was never short on alcohol. I think that's what made them legendary. They once sent sexy texts to Sue Sylvester using photos they found on a dating website."

Kurt grimaced in disgust, but it wasn't hard to imagine this kind of scenario. He'd also been to quite a few parties when he was a Cheerio, but the girls were less wild, and he was sure the worst thing he'd seen was drunk Brittany drawing smiley faces on Santana's bra. He recounted this story to David, and they shared a laugh remembering the occasion. It was nice to focus on the good times instead of looking back on their troubled past or Puck and Finn throwing him in the dumpsters before entering the building.

The change in Dave was obvious. Kurt had long associated his image with the boy pushing him against lockers in high school, or the shy teen who had declared his love for him on Valentine's Day. The person in front of him at the moment was different, an adult, and Kurt found himself curious about how that change had come about.

He tried not to think about the period when Dave was dating Blaine because doing so caused too much guilt  to well up inside him. Maybe one day they would talk about it, if they ever managed to become friends.

"What about your weekend?"

Kurt finished his donut with a thoughtful expression on his face. “It was nice. Tracy was very happy to see Blaine. We went to Central Park and fed the ducks. We watched  _ Frozen 3 _ , the second time for me and Tracy. It won't be long before she’ll convince me to go again. Children know how to get you to do what they want."

Kurt raised an eyebrow. He was sure Dave knew exactly what he was talking about.

“My brothers were really excited about the release of the film. They forced me to watch the first and second part at least ten times. Don't get me wrong, it was fun, but at one point I knew all the lines by  heart . We also made up a game to play together, and I had to be Sven."

Kurt found it adorable how excited Dave got while talking about a children's movie, and how his face melted into a sweet smile as he mentioned playing with his little brothers. He really liked children, Kurt could see it from his eyes. He jotted that detail in his mind. There weren't many people he could talk to about Tracy without running the risk of boring them.

"Did you wear horns?" He laughed heartily. “Tracy would love this game. She once asked Blaine to dress up as Olaf, but I'll let you figure out the answer she got."

Dave blushed, perhaps thinking he had revealed another of his awkward secrets to Kurt, to add to the photo he showed him wearing a horrible Christmas sweater.

“Sven is Kyle's favorite character, I  _ had to _ wear those horns. As you said before, children know how to get you to do what they want."

"I'm sure you were a very cute Sven."

This time Dave blushed seriously, and Kurt realized that that would be the right line to say on a romantic date, not a casual coffee date. He thought Dave was being cute, and he said it before thinking about it too much. He felt comfortable enough, and he liked that Dave loved children.

Kurt looked down, clearing his throat.

Dave thanked him, and it was almost tender that his cheeks were still red. Maybe he wasn't used to compliments. Kurt tried to change the subject because he didn't know if the embarrassment was good or not.

“I still find it hard to believe they decided to allow a gay love story in a movie aimed at kids. And it was Elsa, one of the most popular characters ever. Six years ago there were rumors that it would happen, but nobody believed it. I was skeptical, to be honest."

Kurt wondered what the impact would be on their lives if there were more openly gay characters that children and teens could truly identify with, and that would be able to teach acceptance to their friends and parents as well. He wondered if something like that would have changed anything at all, or if the bigots he grew up around would have stayed focused on their beliefs and hate-filled lives. He was happy that Tracy was growing up in a city like New York, and that she was still unaware of how much humans could hurt each other.

"It feels like another world," Dave said with a distant smile, perhaps lost in the same thoughts. “I hope it makes a difference for a lot of people. Kevin and Kyle knew I was gay before, but they were really proud to know their big brother was like Elsa and Ingrid. Can you imagine?  _ Proud. _ "

Kurt could imagine it very easily because Tracy's friends in kindergarten had asked her so many questions about her gay dads, and from her story they seemed almost jealous of it.

It was truly another world, a universe that teenage Kurt Hummel would not have believed possible.

This increased his curiosity about Dave's path.

“How did you end up in New York? The last time I saw you you were still in Lima."

Dave seemed to think about the words to say, and Kurt felt guilty because he knew very little about him, while promising him a friendship he didn't follow through with. Not that he hadn't tried. They had exchanged a few emails, and a couple of times they had spoken on the phone, but Kurt had been preoccupied by his teenage drama with Blaine, auditioning for NYADA, and Nationals with the Glee Club.

After Blaine's outburst of jealousy over the few texts exchanged with Chandler, Kurt avoided creating other situations where he would be misunderstood.

_ Ah, the irony. _ The eighteen-year-old Kurt still couldn't see it, while the grown-up Kurt wanted to grab his shoulders and force him to open his eyes.

"You know ..." he began, scratching his chin. “I was put on homebound for the last 12 weeks of high school. It was a difficult time. I did a lot of therapy. The antidepressants made me feel like a zombie. My mom preferred to leave when we told her I wasn't going to one of those conversion camps sponsored by her church. She said a dead son was better than a gay son. Christian charity in all its beauty. Can you imagine that?" Dave's right hand tapped the table, as if to maintain contact with reality.

"Believe me," Kurt agreed. "I can imagine it very well."

“My father had to deal with the divorce and my depression. He thought I would ... do it again." 

He didn't have to specify what he was referring to. Kurt knew this well, and the thought still gave him chills.

Dave might not have been alive. His little brothers would have grown up without someone wanting to watch their favorite movie ten times or play with them while wearing a ridiculous pair of horns. They would never have someone to be proud of. Kurt  would have lived with the knowledge that the tragedy could have been avoided.

It was a well he preferred not to  peer into.

"So you decided to go to college, or did you start working?”

Dave visibly relaxed. “Mmm… After high school I decided to study Hospitality Administration at Lima Community College. I didn't want to go too far - you know, my dad. It seemed the more likely choice to get a job fast."

"Ah, I thought your real passion was football," he said, but regretted it almost immediately when Dave's face darkened again.

“I really wanted to play football. I wasn't…” He bit his lip. 

Kurt could feel how much what had happened still had a negative impact on his life. 

“How can I explain it…? I thought I would be ready to go back to the locker room, but the reality was very different, and I had to deal with it. I tried to keep a low profile and go unnoticed. Football would have drawn attention to me, and it was the last thing I needed at the time.”

Kurt found it disheartening that Dave couldn't do what made him happy because of the prejudices that populated Lima. Once again he felt relieved that Tracy's visits were limited to the essential holidays - Christmas and Thanksgiving. Carole had convinced them to spend a week in Lima on Burt's 55th birthday, but Tracy had been too busy naming the cows than focusing on the looks Kurt still got.

He responded to Dave, curious. “Interesting change of course. How did you end up with a restaurant in New York?"

"So, it's a long story." He laughed. “ Dad and Samantha got married a few weeks before I started dating Blaine. I was feeling better, and I thought it was the right time to leave after he and I broke up... You know what I mean? I felt guilty about wanting to leave Lima because of my father, but then I had no more excuses and life was getting boring being around people who couldn’t see past my past. I wanted to break free. It may sound strange, but I thought how much having a place like Scandals had helped me. I got the idea of opening something similar."

Kurt let out a murmur of agreement.

“So, I applied to culinary school after he and I broke up. I moved to Philadelphia, to the JNA Institute of Culinary Art the next fall . I was thinking of opening a gay-friendly restaurant. I even played football again in my free time, but it just wasn’t the same. To tell you the truth, I was sure that sooner or later I would end up back to Lima, but instead I headed to New York."

“I get that. I wondered the same thing about myself for quite a while - whether I’d end up back in Lima running my dad’s business. You know with his health issues back a while back, him being a congressman, and Finn going into teaching. Then Cassius, one of the guys about 10 years older than me, went back to school. He’s been running the shop for over 10 years now, so I haven’t even considered going back to live there in ages.”

“I really like living here, more than I had anticipated that I would. I’m a lot happier here.”

“Happiness is important. And for me, it has always been New York. I knew this from the moment I caught my mother watching  _ Breakfast at Tiffany's _ as a child. I still had no idea what I would do, but I knew that New York was the city where I wanted to live."

Kurt remembered himself dancing on tiptoe in his first dance lessons, and repeating the word “Broadway” without really knowing what it meant. A few years later he had fallen in love with  _ The Sound of Music _ and  _ West Side Story _ , with the magic that seemed to be part of the city and which filled those streets like blood in the veins. The fashion, the catwalks, the bright colors, the spotlights. Kurt loved the idea of New York and while living there, the city had never lost that aura of enchantment that surrounded it.

“I agree. Happiness is important,” Dave said. “Tell me about yourself. What happened after the wedding? Brittany and Santana were very good at not letting anything slip out.” He smiled wryly, perhaps thinking back to that strange situation.

Kurt decided to start from the beginning, like Dave did. "You already know that Blaine and I got married alongside Brittany and Santana."

Kurt blushed because remembering the wedding now that he was an adult only made the ridiculousness of it more apparent. He wasn't sure why he had agreed to marry Blaine, but at that moment it seemed like the best choice. His family, his friends - they all thought they were made for each other, and that they needed to speed up taking that final step. No one actually knew what that relationship was really like because Kurt himself had always kept silent.

"Oh, yeah. Let's just say it ... surprised me. Blaine and I had just broken up."

Yes. That particular fact made the experience make even less sense .

Kurt thought Dave still had some regrets, but his expression looked very relaxed.

“Well, it was a stupid decision, but we didn't notice that right away. The first few months went pretty well. We went back to New York, and I started working at  _ Vogue _ again. I thought that choosing a completely different path from Blaine's would reduce our competitive moments and make us a better couple. In our spare time, we were busy talking about LGBTQ + rights in schools. We joined a charity group, and it was nice to have something that really united us. Something we both loved to do."

"So you went into fashion, and Blaine stayed with performing ..." It sounded like a statement, not a question.

Kurt nodded. "Yes. Working at  _ Vogue _ has really turned out to be my path, even if I miss performing. It would be a lie if I said otherwise. For Blaine it was different - being in the spotlight was his whole life. He never managed to forgive himself for being kicked out of NYADA, but he enrolled and graduated from NYU. He wrote songs and performed on YouTube. In 2019, he was on  _ America's Got Talent. _ "

Dave laughed. "Are you serious? I didn't know that."

Kurt nodded and raised an eyebrow. “ You're probably not a fan of those types of shows . My dad isn't either. Anyway, Blaine was really trying everything possible to become famous. He was working in an independent theater production, but it's his friendship with Rachel that helped him a lot. Thanks to her, he managed to get some small roles on Broadway. Nothing to write home about, but at least it was going in the right direction.”

"And now he and Berry are famous together?"

"That's right," Kurt replied. “Blaine helped Rachel with her first album, but it was the second that really brought them fame. I don't know if you know, but Rachel won a Tony in 2020, and she had her own close circle of fans. Blaine became part of that, and they did their first tour together. Tracy was born around that time, but our marriage was already falling apart by that point. I think Blaine was convinced that having a child would save us, but that never works. He became more and more distant, and the moment came when we both had to face reality and accept that it was definitely over."

He didn't say that Blaine had cheated on him a second time , or a third, or... He didn’t even know if Dave was aware of the first one. Knowing Blaine, he doubted he'd talked to Dave about certain topics during their time together. Or if he did, he most assuredly blamed Kurt for it. He couldn't think about it without shaking with anger.

After the wedding, Blaine was still convinced that he had cheated the year before because of how  Kurt had ignored him and made him feel unwanted.

"I'm sorry it's over, Kurt."

Kurt shook his head. "I'm not." And it was true. Kurt had never felt more free than when he signed those divorce papers. He realized that he had lived in a state of  anxiety for years, waiting for the lynchpin to be pulled out  without even realizing it. Tracy was the reason he got up in the morning.  He knew how to be “Tracy’s daddy”, even when he did know who Kurt was outside of Klaine.

“Don't get me wrong -  it was hard for Tracy, and it broke my heart to see her feeling sad. But I couldn't - I didn't want things to continue on like they had been anymore. The first few months were the hardest for me, but over time I found my balance and was able to really focus on myself and the person I wanted to be. My career took off. I was able to give Tracy real stability that wasn't based on the mirage of a functional marriage . It just wasn't meant to be. Maybe someday, I'll find true love, but it definitely won’t be Blaine."

He liked to think that one day he would meet someone, but the prospect drifted further and further away with the knowledge that he would never settle again. He would rather spend his life alone than to throw himself into someone's arms just to quell a sense of loneliness.

"So you're not seeing anyone?"

Kurt decided to put that thought out. "No,” he said. “Sure, I've had a few dates, but nothing serious. It's hard to find someone who isn't too into themselves, or who wants something  more than a one-night stand. I'm not the kind of person to go for that. I don't care about sleeping with a man I won't see again the next morning.  I’m not willing to settle for that . I have a daughter, and she’s my priority . That's okay for now." He took a  deep breath . "And what about you?"

Dave grew more tense. Kurt saw him look at his hands, intertwined on the table with each other. Maybe he should have said something else, or tried to change the subject.

Kurt thought it was a fairly random topic, and was really curious if Dave found anyone after he and Blaine had broken up.

“I had a six-year relationship, and I thought he was the love of my life. I liked to think we were going to get married, and it seemed like everything was going well. Then it ended, and it wasn't ... an easy breakup. At Brittany's party you asked me why I went back to Lima, and the answer is that I was too depressed to stay in New York. I'm trying to start over and find somewhere to live other than the apartment he and I shared together."

The corners of Dave's eyes were wet with tears, Kurt's heart broke. It felt like Dave's entire body was exuding pain, and it was such a strong sensation that Kurt grabbed his hand and squeezed it gently. Dave’s hand was a little sweaty, shaking, and Kurt stroked it lightly. Dave let him do it, and Kurt watched him relax.

"Oh, David ..." He didn't find much more to say. He doesn't know why Dave and his ex broke up, and he didn't want to force him to talk about it.

He remembered that afternoon in the hospital, that promise he hadn't kept. This time, Kurt wouldn't promise anything, but he'd let his actions speak for him. He wanted Dave to be a part of his life - he liked the person he'd become, and he wanted to get to know him better.

He didn't know if Dave thought the same about him, but Kurt hoped he did.

He realized that their past made that relationship unique, and that there was a part of him that only David could really understand. They were linked by a relationship that would never make them indifferent to each other, even if they decided to never meet again.

Kurt really wanted to explore that bond, to know what role they could play in their respective lives if only they let fate take its course.

"Thank you." Dave smiled a little, his eyes still wet. “It's been nine months. I know it's time to start looking forward. Baby steps, remember?"

Kurt remembered Dave sitting next to him at Scandals, with a cap on his head and a shy smile painted on his lips.  _ Baby steps _ .

Their phones vibrated at the same time, and they both jumped. Kurt released Dave's hand. He had been holding it for too long, which made him blush.

Kurt rolled his eyes as he read the text he just got.

_ Hello losers. You've been invited to the amazing Pierce-Lopez's Halloween party. Try not to die of emotion or crap in your pants from excitement. There will be no diapers available. The party starts at 8pm. Kids are allowed, but if you show up without a costume you will be kicked in the ass. _

The message ended with a series of emojis. A devil, a pumpkin, a ghost, and a raised middle finger.

Dave laughed, wiping his eyes. "Let me guess. Santana?"

It seemed that Santana and Brittany had stopped trying to keep him and David in two parallel lives , and that pleased him. He didn't know why they had done it in the first place.

"Yeah," he nodded. “Looks like I've been invited to a party. A nice idea. I think I'll drop by after taking Tracy trick-or-treating. She loves Brittany."

"I'd like to meet her. Tracy, I mean," Dave said.

Kurt was sure he was telling the truth. 

"This will be the last party before I start looking for a new apartment. I'm going to enjoy myself ."

Kurt put his hand to his chin, curious. "Have you viewed any places yet?"

Dave shook his head. "Not yet. I hope to do so next week. I'm not picky. As long as there is a bed, a bathroom, and a kitchen, I'm all good."

Kurt froze in place, mouth wide open. "I hope you're joking. Are you going to live there?"

Dave laughed, with a confused look. “Of course I'm going to live there, Kurt. I don't know what you mean.”

God, Kurt didn't know Dave was so similar to Finn. He was sure his stepbrother had once told him he didn't care about having a washing machine. A fridge, a bed, and a sofa were enough. And the inevitable Xbox.

“Trust me, David. You don't want to live in a dark and claustrophobia-inducing hole for the rest of your life. I could help you out? If you’d let me."

Dave cocked his head to the side. 

Kurt was sure he wasn't expecting this, but he wouldn't let Dave end up in some questionable place. Not if he had a say in it.

"Are you sure? I don't want you to feel obligated." He scratched his head, perhaps undecided about accepting.

_ Who could blame him?  _ Kurt thought with a sigh. He had already promised to help him once, and then he disappeared from his life.

“Absolutely sure. Remember, real estate agents will always try to scam you. It’s their second nature. All they want is someone who doesn't care enough."

Dave smiled at him again, and Kurt liked that expression. 

“Okay. I accept your offer. Thanks."

They sat motionless, staring at each other for a few seconds that seemed to last much longer.

They then talked about less sensitive subjects and decided to try to imagine what costume Brittany would choose for the Halloween party. They hypothesized names of famous cats - Marie of  _ The Aristocats  _ or  _ Hello Kitty. _ Santana would have been a perfect Pocahontas, but they both doubted she would choose a Disney princess.

Dave got a call while they were talking and gestured for Kurt to excuse him, walking away from the table to a more secluded corner. Kurt found himself relaxed, and he didn't want their meeting to end.

An understanding had formed between them, and Kurt tried to remember the last time he felt like this in the company of another man. He thought back to Elliott, and was overcome with sadness as he remembered that he hadn't heard from him in years. He knew he had moved to San Francisco, but he had no idea what he was doing there.

"Sorry for the wait." Dave sat back down.

Kurt pushed those thoughts away and smiled at him. 

“Sadly, I really have to go. My friend Diego is trying a new dish for the restaurant, and he wants an opinion from me. I keep telling him he's the chef, but he likes to use me as a guinea pig. I told him how you liked the appetizers at Brittany's party, and he wants to perfect them.” He rolled his eyes, but he didn't lose his warm expression.

Kurt hid his disappointment for the end of their time together, but was pleased with how important Dave thought his opinion was. And he really did love those appetizers. He couldn't imagine how it was possible to improve them.

“They were perfect, David. But I understand that you have to go. It was ... fun. We should go out again.”

He hoped Dave didn't misunderstand those words. He blushed, thinking about how they sounded.

Dave laughed though, and put on his jacket again. "Absolutely. But first of all, I hope to see you at the Halloween party. I need someone to help me deal with Santana."

Kurt raised an eyebrow. “I could say the same. I might be a little late, but I’ll definitely be there." He winked at him, and it was Dave's turn to blush.

They said goodbye, and Kurt bought one of those elaborate cupcakes Tracy loved so much. He chose the one with the purple cream frosting and a bat made of sugar placed on the top.

He decided to take a walk. The sun was still high, and he still had a few hours before he had to pick up Tracy from kindergarten.

Kurt’s smile remained for the whole afternoon.

**

Tracy was in a good mood. She was happy that Kurt had fixed Olaf's nose and wanted to watch cartoons cuddling on the couch.

She talked to Blaine on Facetime after dinner, but it lasted only for a few minutes since he was still in transit. She showed him her drawings and  how Olaf was as good as new . She asked him if he was going to come for Halloween. Blaine remained vague. 

After they disconnected, Kurt tried to distract her by giving her the cupcake and watching her devour it in a few bites. He promised her they would go to see Brittany. She was happy that she could play with her and Tubby. She asked  him about her Elsa dress, and he told her that it was nearly done.

He tucked her in bed, and Tracy fell asleep almost immediately, hugging her favorite rabbit plushie. Kurt kissed her forehead, and she smiled in her sleep. He turned off the light, leaving the  nightlight on for Tracy as usual, and he lay down on the sofa, absent-mindedly changing the TV channels without focusing on anything.

He thought back to the weekend with Blaine -  how unsettling his emotions had been. And the mystifying meeting he had with Dave - how their lives had crossed again after so long and how drawn he felt to Dave.

He closed his eyes, sensing the first signs of sleep, as his cell phone vibrated from under the sofa's pillow. Kurt mumbled something incomprehensible and sat up, rubbing his eyes. It wasn't even ten, but he felt exhausted.

He smiled when he saw the text Dave sent him. It just said, "Thanks for introducing me to the cafe. I had a good time." 

Attached to it there was a photo with a tray of tuna and grapefruit snacks, embellished with mint leaves and edible flowers. Kurt had to send him a series of emojis of that weird yellow face licking its lips. Maybe he should go back to Dave's restaurant to taste them. The dish seemed a little too sophisticated for Tracy, but he was sure she would like the dessert list. The cotton candy sweets he tried at Brittany's party were amazing.

He sent a simple response. “It was nice. Hope to see you soon.”

Dave replied almost immediately with three smiling emojis.

Kurt felt happy, relaxed. He closed his eyes again and fell asleep almost immediately.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my beta, Elle Delajoie. Please, check her works out <3


End file.
